A Moral Imperative
by Aownr1669
Summary: Daryl makes a decision about the newest member of the group, but will she survive?  Will they survive together?  Rated M for Mature language and situations. Daryl x OC.
1. Chapter 1

If any woman needed to be fucked, it was her. It was a moral imperative. She'd been pissy in camp for days now. Questioning. Complaining. Whining. No, not really whining, whining wasn't her style. Just...bitching. She had an attitude from the start, defensive, cautious, distrusting, but lately, Christ, she was just snarly. Daryl rubbed his dirty hands over his equally-dirty face and peered down from the makeshift tree-stand. Holy shit, he thought, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his temple. I'm tryin' ta' hunt n' thinkin' 'bout cooze at tha' same time. I'm really off my game.

Truth be told, Daryl had been off his game since she arrived. She wasn't anything special, he kept trying to tell himself, his mind wandering again. Short. Not particularly stunningly beautiful in any movie-star kind-of way, but cute enough. Nice skin, kinda pale like she'd not been out in the sun too awful much. Her eyes were the first thing you'd notice when you looked at her face. Big, sort of greenish-goldish. Hazel, he thought that's what they'd be called. She had nice tits and a nice round ass, probably had been on the chunky side before the epidemic, but now with the lack of food and the constant physical stress, she was thinner, leaner. Do-able. Her hair was a sort-of dark brown and kinda wavy, although Daryl hadn't gotten to see much of it down, she usually kept it up in a twisty low bun. Smart on her part, he'd assessed, walkers can grab hair easy. He'd like to grab that hair and give it a good yank.

Daryl had been watching her closely, more closely than he had even realized. Definitely more than he would have cared to admit to anyone. She had a foul mouth and an equally foul temper, blowing up at Shane at the mere suggestion that she didn't know how to handle a gun the other day. Calling him everything but a white woman. He had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing out loud as Shane just stood there, proverbial dick in his hand. It was funny and scary at the same time. The words that came out of that mouth didn't match the rest of the package. He looked at her and the first thing he'd thought was "kindergarten teacher." She kinda' looked like somebody that would be good with kids. Mild-tempered, meek. The kind of woman that wouldn't say shit if she had a mouthful. She was good with Carl and Sophia, treated them nice enough, but holy shit, did that woman go off like a bomb when provoked and lately, she provoked real easy. She was like a badger with a toothache...and a nice rack. His mind wandered back to her rack for a second.

Daryl smiled to himself when he imagined what Merle would have done if he'd been with them now. He would have been merciless. Typical Merle. Rude. Crude. Fuck, he woulda' had a field day trying to get her goat. Casting his vile net of racism and lewdness like a fisherman, just to see what kind of catch he hauled in. Boy would he have been surprised at this fish.

He imagined them, eyeball to belly-button. Merle was taller than he was and she was really short. Daryl surmised she would have held her own though, not backed down one bit. Merle would have, of course, upped the ante, talking about her tits, telling her just what all he'd like to do to her ass, just to see where her limit was. That was the thing about her, though, he didn't think this chick had a limit. She would have matched Merle, insult for insult. Suggestive, gross, downright filthy-dirty comment, throwing them back at him without batting an eye. Daryl knew she had it in her, just by the way she cussed, they way her face instantly flushed beet red when she got pissed off, by the way she looked at him once.

Daryl closed his eyes and remembered that look. He'd never seen a woman look so...hungry. Not even in the best of the worst of Merle's extensive porn collection. It had startled him a bit, her stare, the way she sucked in her lower lip and bit it, letting it out slowly, as her head lowered and she looked at him from under those eyes.

He had been hunting and had to hurry to skin and gut the deer he'd shot. He returned covered in muck and blood, not an especially good aroma, given walkers' apparently keen sense of smell. He'd jogged back to camp, sweating like a mother between the muggy Georgia afternoon and the desperation to finish with the deer and get back to safety. He'd started to change outside his tent, peeling his sticky shirt off as he walked through camp, grabbing a clean one from the basket Carol had deposited outside his tent.

He didn't normally think about taking his shirt off in front of anybody in camp. He wasn't self-conscious. The women just weren't interested in looking at him. They acted like he was just one step above a walker and avoided him like the plague. Guilt by association, thank you, Merle. Until now. Until she looked up at him.

Daryl had started towards the narrow path to the lake to clean himself up and rinse the metallic, sweet-sick scent off of him, out of his shirt. He had his crossbow and a clean shirt and pants in one hand and his dirty shirt and a bar of soap in the other. She had been sitting by the fire ring, folding a basket of clothes when she saw him. He noticed she froze, mid-fold, paused for a second then slowly lowered the pair of kids' shorts to her lap, her movements in slow motion, autopilot. Distracted to the point that she would probably eventually look down and wonder what the hell the shorts were doing on her lap.

Her eyes followed his every step, head swiveling slowly with his every move through camp, dry lips slightly parted as she looked him up and down, eyes drinking him in. Daryl would have given anything to crawl inside her head right then, to know what it was she was exactly thinking because one look at her eyes told him whatever it was, it was downright n-a-s-t-y.

He saw her inhale deeply, her breasts swell in her tank top as she stopped mid-breath and then exhale ever so slowly, almost painfully. Had he been closer, he probably would have heard the tiny whine she made in the back of her throat as she let out that breath. It was her eyes that gave her away, though. Narrowing for just a split second, one outside corner twitching, following him, roaming over him like she was trying to memorize every muscle, every inch of skin. Needful, wanton. A look of uninhibited, unconscionable desire. If he could bottle the look, he'd could only have called it lust.

Daryl shook his head and tried to focus, surveying the grassy field that stretched out before him. Nothing moving except the spindly tops of the long weeds swaying the afternoon breeze. His mind wandered again.

They had been talking about the need for supplies. Rick's assessment of the situation was that they were running low, especially on food and medicine. The men were making plans which didn't include women.

"What the hell, Rick?" she said, adjusting her dirty blue baseball cap. "We supposed to just stay back and knit? Sit around camp waiting for our men-folk to return?" She spit out the word "men-folk" with a good amount of disdain.

Daryl shot her a glance and scratched his head, smirking, one eyebrow raised.

"Bit me, Cracker." she looked at him, narrowing her eyes. She turned back to Rick. "I'm going with and so is Andrea."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Rick started to say. His voice was calm, sheriff-like. Apparently it crawled up her spine just like it did Dary'ls. "You and Andrea need to stay here, guard camp, help-" she cut him off mid-sentence.

"Help who? Help Dale? Dale doesn't need any help. He's fine on top of his camper there with his lil' rifle. Fuck this, Rick. We're going with you guys."

"No." Daryl said quietly.

"Watch us, asshole." she said, turning to him. "We're going and you ain't stoppin' us." she said, taking a step towards him.

Daryl looked at her and grinned. "What, you gonna kick me in the shins, H-O?"

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" she said, her voice rising.

"Ya' heard me. You ain't goin.' You two 'll slow us down n' be one more thing we gotta worry about. Ain't got time ta' hold yer' hand 'n keep ya' from cryin' when a heard a' walkers comes by or if ya' break a nail."

"As if you're ever gonna get to fucking hold anything of mine! Dream on, Hilljack" she glowered. "Just keep your hands on your dick where they belong" She had taken another step in Daryl's direction and paused, her hands on her hips, feet apart, knees locked.

"Watch it, there, H.O.," he grinned again, baiting her some more. "They'll kick you outta' the Lollipop Guild for language like that."

She took another step towards him. "You son of a BITCH!" she said. "We're going and you ain't stopping us. You'll be lucky if you get back and not have that fucking crossbow of yours up your ass sideways."

"Ooooh. Big talk from a lil' girlie." he teased. "You kiss yer' Mama with that mouth?" She was so close he could smell the soap on her skin. She drew back her fist quickly and pulled her arm back, throwing a punch that he caught with one hand, holding her fist mid-air. "Naa-aah-ahhh!" he said. "I'll put ya' in time out."

"You mother _fucker_!" she yelled, grabbing at Daryl's hand with her other hand. "Who the hell are you to say we can't go? You're not the God-damned boss. If we want to go, you're sure as shit not gonna stop us." Daryl grabbed her wrist. "Let me go, you asshole." she hissed.

"Don't think so." he said, pulling her one step closer to remind her of their size difference. "I don't want ya' ta' punch my kneecaps."

She let loose with a string of cusswords that would have made Merle fall in love, the whole time, Daryl held her fist and her wrist, hot in his hands. She was so angry she was shaking. Daryl thought it was a cliche' that people's nostrils flared when they were pissed off, but she was close enough he could see hers move with every breath she took between the cuss words.

"Let me go, cocksucker!" she yelled, trying to twist out of his grip. Daryl just clamped down tighter.

"Now, listen, both of you, just let's calm down." Rick said, walking towards the two, adjusting his hat. Her eyes burned into Daryl like embers. Daryl was looking at her with a bemused grin on his face If looks could kill he'd a' been dead with the first 'mother fucker.' "You and Andrea are staying here. It's too dangerous. We've not been there before and we don't know what we'll find. Besides, two more people will take up valuable space and we don't have the gas to take another vehicle. Maybe next time, but not now. Just wouldn't be a good idea."

She looked at Daryl, eyes flashing, darting between he and Rick. He watched her shoulders fall and some of the color drain from her beet-red cheeks. "Fuck you both. The pair of you." she said, defeated. Daryl loosened his grip and she pulled her hands back. "Assholes!" she hissed as she turned and walked away from the vehicles, disappearing into her tent.

Daryl caught himself grinning and chastised himself for thinking about anything other than catching dinner. He watched as a buck came cautiously through the tree line and into the clearing. He waited patiently, silently, not drawing a breath until it came into range and let loose with a bolt, hitting the animal in the heart, dropping it instantly.

XXXXX

She slapped the can of beer into his hand and glared at him. He cocked his head sideways, trying to figure out what he'd done now to piss her off. He ran through a mental checklist and came empty handed in the category of things he'd done or not done to get her Irish up. Fucking women, he thought, ain't no pleasing them. No wonder he never paid them much attention. More trouble than they're worth. Screw 'em. Well, yeah, there is THAT, he smiled.

He sat down next to the fire and watched her out of the corner of her eye. She sat there, one foot on her knee, balancing a plate on her lap. Sullen, eating a piece of venison with her fingers. She looked at him and looked away quickly, tossing the half-eaten meat back onto her plate, wiping her fingers on a rag. She sat the plate on the ground in front of her. As she leaned over, he could see all the way down her shirt to the bare skin between the cups of her bra. She sat up quickly when she realized that she'd bent over too far, looking around, their eyes meeting again. She pursed her lips and scowled. "Like the view, dillweed?" she said, her jaw clenched.

"Seen better, act'ully." Daryl said, a half grin on his face.

She stood up and brushed past him. "Fuck you, Redneck." she said in a low voice, throwing her dirty dishes in the tub with a rattle. She took off for her tent, not looking back.

Jesus, he thought, that girl's got a mouth on her. He then started to feel a little guilty about what he'd said. She did have a pretty nice rack and he did kinda' enjoy the view. A lot. A whole lot. Daryl didn't want to admit it to himself but he was dying to get his hands on those tits. For the first time in a long time, Daryl Dixon had allowed himself, albeit not consciously, to get good and horny. Dick-aching, rub-one-out-in-the-middle-of-the-day, toss-and-turn all night, ball-throbbing horny. Problem was, the only woman he wanted to do something about it didn't much act like she'd give him the courtesy to piss on him if he was on fire.


	2. Chapter 2

Daryl sat behind the others around the low fire, sharpening his hunting knife, spitting on the whet stone, scraping it slow, drawing the blade across it in a leisurely pass up...down...up...down, the metal making a quiet scree-sound as it came in contact with the oil-slick block resting on his thigh.

He watched her, arms folded across her chest, her feet propped up against a log, toes pointed towards the fire. She was quiet tonight, unusually quiet, as she drank a second cup of instant coffee from the heavy old percolator on the fire. It was chilly and Dale had brought out a bottle of peppermint schnapps, which was being passed around to help with the taste of the somewhat-stale coffee. Daryl could smell the sickening-sweet mint-y aroma as they all talked, reminisced about life before the outbreak, how things _used _to be. The smell of old candy canes hung like a cloud in the damp chilly air around them.

She rose, looking him straight in the eye briefly. There is was again, the outside corner of her left eye twitching every so slightly, almost imperceptibly. She said her goodnights and walked to her tent, cup still in hand, disappearing into the darkness, only the long ziiiiip of the tent door opening, then another ziiiiiip to indicate that she had closed it after her. Daryl watched her walk, the thin hoodie and sweatpants hugging her curves, watching her ass as she moved away from him. His nerves were raw, irritated. He felt like he was the knife edge, being drawn, dragged against the cold gray stone, losing a tiny microscopic layer of himself with each pass, each sway of her hips. His will becoming thinner and thinner, wearing down every time she looked at him.

He finished his work on the blade, wiping the thin coating of oil on his pants, and returned the knife to the sheath on his belt, rising and slipping away unnoticed. He walked to his tent without a sound, removing his belt and shirt before he laid down on the stale blankets, his head on the pillow, arms laying over his eyes. He nodded off quickly, dozing lightly, always one ear on the alert for any sound, any unusual movement, anything that shouldn't be.

His eyes flew open and Daryl sat up. He heard a slow clicking sound, a tent opening slowly, the zipper gliding tooth by tooth. Someone not wanting to be heard making an exit...or an entrance. Now quiet footsteps. Andrea? No, she spent most of her nights in Dale's r.v...everyone had accepted that without comment. Carol? No, where would she be going unless there was something wrong with Sophia. Shane? Who would fucking want to... No, it was coming from the right-hand side. Daryl threw on his shirt and laced his boots quickly, unzipping his tent as quietly as she had, following her shadow past the tree line, unnoticed, hoping she couldn't hear his heart pounding as he moved silently behind her.

Daryl felt like a perv as he watched her from behind the tree. She squatted, pulling down her sweatpants and underwear, holding on to a sapling to steady herself. He could see her bare ass, pale in the slight moonlight, heart-shaped, curvy round at the hips and as it disappeared into the darkness of the back of her thighs. She peed quickly and pulled out a package of wet-wipes from the pocket of the light-weight hoodie. She stood up once she was finished and wiped her hands with another, pulling up her pants, arranging her jacket, stuffing the small package back in her pocket. She looked around quickly and started to make her way back through the thicket to the camp and the warmth of her tent.

Daryl slowly moved around the tree hiding him until she passed him. He made the mistake of looking at her ass as she walked past him. The feeling that surged through him was like 'shine hitting an empty stomach. Pure heat. Burning fire, singeing every nerve ending from his half-stiff dick to the ends of his hair. Searing, alcohol-in-a-wound, mind-numbing heat. The next thing he did surprised even himself. Daryl Dixon lost it. Totally and completely lost all control of himself. As she moved a couple steps beyond, he moved out from his hiding place quickly, grabbing her by the waist, clapping his hand over her mouth, pulling her against him as she struggled and kicked.

"Shhh." he croaked. "Fuckin' shut up."

She stopped struggling for a split second when she recognized his voice and then began fighting again, twisting around to face him, her mouth open, about to scream as he grabbed a fist-full of her shoulder-length hair and pulled back hard, opening up her neck, covering her mouth with his. He jammed his tongue inside, moving his lips on hers, trying to seal in any sound that night escape. His free hand moved from her waist to her ribs as she had turned. Kneading, massaging. His thumb could feel the thin line of elastic of the bottom of her bra under the fabric of her jacket.

Her hands were busy smacking him in the chest, pounding with her fists as he continued to assault her mouth with his, his tongue wicked, thrashing, roaming over every inch of the inside of her as if he were looking for a long-lost treasure. His tongue slid across her bottom row of teeth, slick, clean, slightly...minty. While his hand squeezed her ribcage on the sides and back, his thumb worked back and forth in the front, dangerously close to hitting nipple. Intentionally hitting nipple.

She stopped struggling in a split second and made a tiny sound in the back of her throat. Not a moan, not a whine, a...brief, hesitant whimper. She had stopped pummeling his chest and instead was gripping two handfuls of his shirt. Daryl lifted her up by her waist and opened one eye, moving her backwards to a large oak, not breaking the kiss, refusing to let her come up for air. No, not this time. He was not going to let her even open her mouth to let one foul thing come out. Not one insult, not a peep of protest. Not if he could help it.

He remembered the look in her eye when she'd seen him walking through camp on the way to the lake. Daryl knew what she wanted, what she needed and he was damn sure going to give it to her. He needed it as bad as she did, he was sure of that too. He put her back roughly to the tree and moved his hands to her hips, moving a leg to between hers, his knee a makeshift seat between her legs. Her hands were moving on his chest now, roaming, around his back as far as she could reach, pulling on his shirt to free it from the confines of being tucked into his pants. She was struggling to breathe now, the pace of their kissing had picked up as he dropped his knee and pulled her hips to his, grinding himself into her, forcing her back against the tree again. She turned her head suddenly to the side and gasped for air, managing a couple deep breaths of the cool night air before Daryl dipped his head and again covered her mouth with his.

He ran a hand up her shirt to the zipper pull of the hoodie and jerked downward forcefully, the metal teeth protesting for a split-second and then giving way with an audible rip. The sweatshirt parted and he could see a light-colored bra, barely discernable against her pale skin. Daryl popped the front closure easily with one hand as she squirmed in anticipation of where his hand would surely go, her breath coming in short bursts now.

Daryl could feel the heat radiating from her, causing him to become even harder, wondering if he would even be able to get his dick out of his pants when the time came. And it was coming, good God it was coming. He lifted her ass with one hand as she wrapped her legs around his waist, moving her closer as she arched her back away from the tree slightly. He grabbed one breast with his free hand and lowered his head to take the other in his mouth. She put both hands in his hair, running over his neck, dropping them to his shoulders. He was as rough with her breasts as he was with her mouth, greedy, nipping, teasing, making her squirm against him even harder.

His hand dropped to her waist, pulling on the drawstring of her sweatpants, breaking the thin string, loosening them instantly enough to get a hand down the front, straight for the source of the heat at his waist. He cupped the mound between her legs and flexed his fingers as he continued to mouth her breasts. The smooth cotton of her underwear was already damp, making his thinking hazy, unfocused as he continued to pull his fingers towards his palm and then push them back up against her, brushing her over her panties, making her squirm as he moved his lips from her nipple again to her mouth, open and eager this time. He swirled his tongue around her mouth as he circled his flattened hand and she pressed against him harder.

Daryl ran his hand around the back of the waistband of her now-loose sweatpants, tearing at them, pushing them down past her hips, her knees. Her hands moved to his shoulders, hanging on as he struggled to free one leg from her pants, then the other, flinging them on the ground in frustration, her legs returning to lock around his hips as they continued to kiss. Her hands moved from his shoulders to his waist and fumbled with the button on his green army fatigues riding low on his waist now. The button now undone, he took a step back and she pushed the pants off his hips, his balls twitching with her touch as she ran her hands around to his ass and squeezed. Half stiff no more.

He returned to her mouth as he rocked his hips against hers, pushing her back into the tree, dry-humping like high school kids. His fatigues slipping lower on his ass with each movement his hips made. She reached a hand down towards him and he slapped it away, holding her by the waist against the tree, as he stopped and withdrew slightly, pausing as she looked down at him, so absolutely ready. Her pupils dilated slightly. In the near darkness a look passed between them. Silent, unspoken, a slow blink of her now-dark eyes, an even slower nod. A deep shuddering exhaled breath as she steadied herself for him.

Daryl watched her eyes, glassy, half-closed. He'd been waiting for her signal. When it came, he didn't hesitate. He held her hips firmly, fingers bruising her pale flesh, and brought her to him, entering her easily as he again covered her mouth with his to keep her from crying out. She tensed slightly and then let go, relaxing every muscle, going limp for just a bit as he buried himself inside her completely.

She was dizzy, half from the heat, half from lack of oxygen as Daryl's kisses stole the very breath from her. She desperately needed the chilly air, crisp and clean in her lungs, clearing her head, drawing her out of the haze. She grabbed the hair at the back of his head and jerked hers away to the side, extricating her mouth from his, her head on his neck. Drinking in the cool air, her breathing slow, steady, matching the rhythm Daryl was making, pounding her into the tree, the bark scraping and poking the flesh of her ass.

Her head cleared and she became aware of every place he was touching her. His hands, rough and hot on her hips, fingers splayed, his grip like a vice. Pulling on her. His mouth was pressed against the side of her head, his breathing heavy, a slight grunting sound with every thrust, deep and low in the back of his throat. A cross between a contended hum and a needful growl as he moved. His shoulder dug into her, pressing her against the tree. Her legs were locked around his, feet crossed behind his back as he crashed into her.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel him inside of her, the heat building, moving faster, every pass moving her closer as he buried himself deeper, picking up the pace steadily. She allowed her mind to wander briefly animage of a steam locomotive, the arm between the wheels moving jerkily forward, pushing the train little by little, building up speed with every thrust, faster, farther. She snapped back into focus when she realized that the sound she was hearing, the huff of the engine as it tried to gain speed, was their breathing, matched together, also accelerating with every thrust.

He turned his head back to her and she seized his mouth, one hand on the back of his neck, pulling him to her, muffling the desperate, moan that erupted as she came, bucking, jerking as she squeezed her feet and legs, pulling him in, everything tightening around him. Daryl felt her start to go and his brain flipped a switch, turning off everything but the feeling in his dick as she contracted around him, drawing him out, pulling him over the edge with her. He turned his head slightly and hissed out of the side of his mouth. "Fucking...shit...Jesus...God...Fuck!" he sputtered as he rode out his orgasm, his arms now wrapped around her waist in an attempt to draw himself inside, still closer. If he could have, he would have crawled inside her and disappeared forever in the warmth of her, the soft velvety feeling as it melted around him, holding him, gently caressing him as he relaxed, his mind now a fog of swirling feelings and half-conscious thoughts. Fleeting. Unreachable.

He felt his legs now, heavy, straining, the muscles like limp cords, barely able to support their weight, burning with every twitch of his ass, every uncontrollable movement, however slight. He put his arm under her ass and went down to one knee, his other arm using the tree for support. He sat back, his bare ass landing half on his pants, half on the damp grass, her legs still wrapped around him tightly. His mind was spinning, the warmth of still being inside her, holding her against him contrasted deliciously with the cool air and the chilly wet grass under him.

They sat there as they caught their breath, chests heaving, tiny jolts of electricity moving through each of them as they wound down, like a tops spinning slower and slower, spiraling wider to the point where momentum gives in to gravity and the once out-of-control becomes predictable, slow circles growing larger and larger until the circles...just...stop.

"What's it mean?" she said softly, her head against his chest.

"What?"

"What's it mean? You called me H-O."

"Oh." Daryl grinned. "It's a model railroad thing."

"You play with trains?"

"Hell no. It's just a scale."

"A what?"

"A scale."

"You lost me."

"It means," he said, looking down at her breasts and licking his lips suggestively, "it's all there, just on a smaller scale."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Uh-huh." Daryl said, looking up. "So shut tha' hell up."

"Did you plan this?"

"What?"

"Following me out here to pee."

"No."

"So?"

"I just saw you and..." Daryl shrugged. "It happened."

"Is it going to happen again?"

"Depends" he said, pulling her closer to his chest, feeling the hardness of her nipples against his bare skin.

"On WHAT?" she snorted.

"How pissy ya' are ta' me from now on."

"Fuck you, you redneck son of a bitch, you're damn fucking lucky I didn't-"

Daryl overspoke her as he leaned in. "Well, if ya' insist..." he said, covering her mouth with his once again, forcing her backwards in the cool damp grass.


	3. Chapter 3

**Please review. This one-shot keeps growing, thanks to your awesome comments.**

**And remember, peeps, I don't own or make any claim to any of the WD characters (just my OCs) or any of their plot lines. You know the rest...**

**Chapter 3.**

She sighed one last sign and allowed herself to go limp. Daryl put a hand on each tender, still-sensitive breast and pulled her back, sitting her on his lap, leaving his hands there, keeping her solid against his sweaty chest.

"Holy fuckin' shit." he breathed into her neck.

"Yeah." She closed her eyes as his fingers made little rubbing motions. "Holy fuckin' shit."

Daryl secretly loved this time. Right after sex. She was quiet, subdued. He took a little pride in thinking he'd fucked her into submission, into being...nice. Sometimes after they'd been together, they'd just sit or lay for a while. Not talking. He realized he enjoyed that...and not just because he was coming down off a great lay, either. Well, yeah. There was _that_, too.

"I gotta get back." she said, trying to pull away.

"Why?"

"Because. I don't want anybody to know about us."

"Why? Ya' embarrassed? 'm I not good enough for ya?"

"No, Daryl. I don't want them knowing our business. This is..."

"What? This is what?"

"God, will you stop being so fucking defensive?"

"Why you always gotta' be so mean? This is WHAT?"

"This is between us. This is...ours." she turned around to face him. "You think I'm mean?" she said quietly.

"I think yer' the one that's always so fuckin' _defensive_." he said, rubbing his thumbnail across his forehead. "What 'r ya' so angry about?"

"Jesus, Daryl," she snorted. "You want me to make a list?"

"Yeah. Make a list. Right now. Tell me." Daryl moved his hand to her upper arm and held it firmly, a not-so-subtle reminder that she was not going to get out of this.

"You're not serious." she snorted.

"Purtymuch." he nodded slowly, sucking in the corner of his lower lip. His blue eyes were steely, unblinking.

"You don't want to know. It doesn't matter anyway. "

"When it makes ya' so damn pissy all tha' time, it sure fuckin' does."

"Jesus, you can't fix this. Just let it go. What do you care?"

Daryl grabbed her chin and held it hard. He came real close to saying it and then stopped himself. He didn't want to put any parameters on this...whatever it was they were doing. He didn't want to fuck it up. "Tell me." he said, setting his jaw and narrowing his eyes just a tiny bit.

She jerked her chin away. "Alright." she sighed. "Christ, where do I even start?" She looked down at him and then quickly looked away. They were both still naked, their skin flushed, sticky with evaporating sweat. "I'm pissed that the world fell apart. I'm pissed that I got to Atlanta just in time to find my parents wandering the front yard of the house I grew up in, looking for more neighbors to eat. I'm pissed that the government allowed this to happen, and you know God-damned good 'n well that this was all their fault because a fuck-up this massive could ONLY have been spawned by our illustrious government. I'm pissed that my husband felt it necessary to re-up ONE MORE FUCKING TIME and got his head blown off by some cocksucker with just enough bomb-making skills to put together a working IED. I'm pissed that I never had a chance to have a family of my own. I'm pissed that I can't get a God-damned McDonald's Sweet Tea with extra ice anymore. I'm fucking pissed that I have to worry about people eating us, Daryl_, _EATING us. How fucked up is that? I'm pissed that until you came along, I hadn't gotten laid in four years. I'm just plain pissed. Fucking PISSED at EVERYTHING and now I'm pissed that I'm about to start crying in front of you." She lowered her head and bit her lip hard, trying to hold back the floodgates. Commanding herself to get a grip.

Daryl looked at her blankly, not knowing what to say, his mind trying to absorb the details of what she'd shared. He put his hand to the back of her head and pulled their foreheads together. "No shit? Four years?" he said, trying not to grin. He knew the minute he said it, it was a mistake. Probably not a good way to break the tension, the raw emotion that she'd just poured out. He knew that she was on the edge and about ready to trip and he was pretty sure that he'd just given her the shove over the edge.

"Lord, that's what you heard? Out of all that, THAT'S what stuck?" she pulled away and turned to look at him again. Daryl looked at her and panicked a bit, realizing how much he'd screwed up. She wasn't pissed. She didn't take it as a joke. She was hurt. Her eyes had lost their normally bright light and her shoulders fell. She looked just plain sad now.

"No. Bad joke. Really bad joke." he shook his head. "I'm..."

She looked up at him, tears welling in her red-rimmed eyes. She was clenching her teeth, the muscles in her neck standing out like cords, her jaw tight. "You're what."

"I'm sorry I was a dick."

"Yeah, well, why not? Just gives me one more thing to be pissy about, right?" she hissed.

"You got a right ta' be pissy." he said, nodding his head. "I'm. Sorry."

She stiffened. "What are we doin' here, Daryl?"

"Uhm, talkin' 'till I fucked it up."

"No, I mean this." she waved her head between them. "This...what we do."

"Kinda' like ta' think of it as _quality _time." he grinned, still trying to break the mood.

"Why?"

"_Why_?"

"Why? Why do we do it? What are we getting out of it?"

"Whadda' ya' mean what 're we gettin' out a' it? I thought ya' kinda' liked it. You tellin' me ha' been fakin' it all this time?"

"Oh, Jesus, you really are a piece of work, you know that, Dixon?"

"Lookit here," he said, frowning "If ya' wanna' quit this, then just say so."

She pulled back a bit and studied his hard face. "I do not wanna quit this." she said quietly.

"Me neither. So shut tha' fuck up."

"Kiss my ass. You're the one who wanted to talk." she sneered, narrowing her eyes. She pushed herself up and started to gather her clothes from the floor of the tent. She dressed quickly, silently, while he laid back, still naked, his hands behind his head on the pillow. She unzipped the tent flap and turned around. "I never faked it with you, either, you asshole." she said, disappearing.

XXXXX

"You ready?" he said, putting the key in the ignition of the battered pick-up. Daryl didn't want to admit it, but he was a little nervous. Things had been quiet between them since the last time they were together. Things with her usually weren't quiet.

She shook her head, taking a deep breath and exhaling through her mouth. "Let's do this."

"You stay with me, don't be wanderin' off on yer own. Keep yer' eyes open. "

"Seriously. You feel the need to remind me of this becaaauuse..." she said, dragging out the last syllable.

Daryl flipped her the finger as he stepped on the accelerator and the truck lurched forward.

They drove in silence for a while, neither one knowing quite what to say.

"This is the longest time we've been face-to-face without having sex." she said.

"You could slide over here n' do sumthin'." Daryl said low.

"No thanks. I've seen you come when I go down on you. You'd lose consciousness, make a sharp turn and wring my neck on the steering wheel. We'd both end up dead."

"But I'd die with a smile on ma' face." he grinned and looked over at her, licking his bottom lip slowly. "How 'bout ya' come on over here."

"How 'bout ya' just keep your mind on the road." she grinned. "I got enough to worry about with walkers tryin' to grab me, I don't need you added to the mix."

"Fair 'nuff." he nodded, watching the tail lights of Shane's jeep in front of him. "I'll be grabbin' ya' later then."

XXXXX

"Walker!" Daryl yelled. "Git yer' ass over here now."

"Fuckin' shit!" she yelled. "Got two here." She dropped the two cases of bottled water she was carrying and dodged down behind the counter of the convenience store, pulling the rifle to her shoulder, bracing herself with her back foot. She caught hell from her old man for doing that, but it was a stance she was most comfortable with. The once-teenage walker lumbered down the main aisle, arm dangling, growling like some ungodly animal. She noticed it had pink high-top tennis shoes on and a pink t-shirt, all matching perfectly with a pink scrunchie, once holding no doubt a _perfect _pony-tail, but now matted and tangled in a wad of dirt- and leaf- filled blonde hair. She took aim and leveled the gun, pulling the trigger as the walker came towards her closer. The shot went through the skull in the middle of it's forehead, dropping it back and to the side. The walker just behind it stumbled briefly but continued to advance..

"Now don't be trippin' on Barbie, there, she's having a bad hair day." she said as she aimed for the second walker, a man in a once-blue oxford shirt, red tie, and blue dress pants. He looked like he'd just come from some middle-management position with the accounting firm of Dead and Deader, she thought. His jaw hung slack and he was moving faster now, his wing-tips making a flat slapping sound on the dirty tile floor. "Fuck!" she said, pulling the trigger again. "You're a fast one." The shot hit him below the eye, sending bits and pieces of bone and what used to be gray-matter spraying behind him before he fell forward, nearly hitting the counter. "Daryl." she yelled. "Daryl?" There was no sound.

"FUCK!" she hissed. "Daryl, are you ok?" She stepped out from behind the counter carefully, cautiously and started to move down the main aisle, moving around the two walkers on the floor, looking down each aisle for him. Her heart was in her throat. Outside the busted-out window, she watched as Shane and Rick dispatched two more walkers in the street. "Daryl." she was whispering now. "Fuck, this isn't funny. Are you ok?" she said, her voice cracking. She rounded the corner of the counter, the store now empty and slowly started down a small hallway. There were doors on either side, one a freezer, the other a restroom. The end of the hallway was a set of swinging doors painted with "EMPLOYEES ONLY."

She pulled open the freezer door and quickly shut it, the stench too much to bear. Thawed meat, milk products, all a now-spoiled and rotten inventory. Bile inched up her throat and she put her hand over her mouth and gagged a bit. She took a few steps and looked down as she started to push on one side of the back storeroom doors. She could see a leg, faded gray work pants and muddy work boots, the foot turned slightly inwards. The foot moved slightly and the door swung open as Daryl moved forward, slinging his crossbow behind him and grabbing her by the shoulders, pushing her through the restroom door and kicking it shut with his foot. He locked the door with one hand and ripped the rifle out of hers with the other, while forcing her back against the countertop. Half-throwing the rifle into the corner, he dropped the crossbow with a clatter on the floor and picked her up, setting her roughly down on the counter.

"I watched ya' drop those two walkers." he hissed into her ear, as he pulled her baseball cap off and threw it behind them, biting into her neck roughly. "That was tha' sexiest fuckin' thing I ever seen." He pulled her to him as he covered her mouth and his tongue dove in. Her hands went to his chest and pulled up his shirt, moving around to caress his back as she wrapped her legs around his waist, his mouth moving on hers, reminding her of a hungry walker, devouring her, no conscious thought, no conscience. His hands moved to her waist and jerked the snap on her jeans, yanking on the zipper furiously while his mouth moved back to her neck, nipping, kissing, licking her from collarbone to earlobe in one heated motion. She tightened her legs around him and raised her ass off the surface as he continued to claw at her jeans, now trying to move them down her hips and thighs.

She moved her hands flat behind her and scooted forward as Daryl pulled at this belt buckle and dropped his own pants to his knees, freeing his fully-erect cock. His hands went immediately to her hips, pulling her to him as he all but impaled her, murmuring "So fuckin' hot." Daryl began to move her with him, his rhythm fast, thrusting hard, burying his head against her neck as she reached her arms around to hold on to his shoulders.

"Oh Jesus." he said, moving his head down to her shirt, nipping at her breast through the fabric as she arched her back and opened the distance between them. "Take. It. Off. I. Want. Them." he panted, still rocketing between her legs. She pulled her shirt over her head, exposing her bra as he continued to work. "No." he said between thrusts. "Them." Daryl motioned with his head towards her breasts.

"What, these?" she said, her hands on the cups, squeezing, kneading them through the smooth white cotton of her bra.

"Fucking. Shit. Woman. Want." Daryl's mind was a blur as he sputtered out words between breaths, barely coherent.

"Fuckin'. Shit. Man. Beg." she mimicked him. Daryl leaned in and nipped the back of her wrist as she covered herself with her hands. "Hey!" she snapped, removing her hands and pushing back on his shoulders. As she did, he brought one hand up and pulled the bra down hard, exposing both breasts and tearing one of the straps loose.

"You beg." he growled . He leaned in again, clamping his mouth over one breast and began to suck and bite at her, covering her whole areola with his mouth, pulling, tugging hard. He turned his head slightly and looked up at her face. Her head was thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open forming an "o" shape. He worked over one breast and then the other, never missing a beat down below.

She opened her eyes when he picked up the tempo. She moved her hands beside her and gripped the edge of the counter to keep him from moving her backwards out of reach. "Never. " she said, tilting her hips, inching him in further.

Daryl's mind slipped a gear. He knew what he had to do. He pulled her hard to him and slammed into her moving faster, until he could hear her breathing change and felt her start to vibrate, closing around him gently at first, then building as he continued pounding into her. If she'd know what he was about to do, she'd have used his own crossbow on him. He watched her reach the edge, almost there himself and he just stopped. Still. Motionless. From full throttle to all stop in a split second.

He held her shoulders tight as she raised her eyes to his, squeezing his own muscles to try to keep from exploding himself. He felt his balls twitch slightly. "What the fuck?" she whimpered. "What...are you doing?" Her mouth was open and she was breathing hard. He squeezed her shoulders with his fingertips.

"Beg."

"Oh, no, you..." gulped breath, "sonofabitch..." gulped breath, "you..." she gripped his hips and bucked against him, quivering.

"Beg" he said again, his lips curled, eyes narrowed.

"Fucker." she hissed. "Daryl. Don't. Stop this." she said, closing her eyes and turning her head away. She was starting to sweat.

"Beg." he repeated. Daryl locked his knees and clenched his ass cheeks tight, feeling a wave come over him, fighting to maintain control.

"Jee-ZUS" she whined. "No. No. No." she shook her head slowly. "Please don't stop. Please. I can't take it. Pleeeease." She was whining now.

Daryl pulled himself back and pulled her forward to him, burying himself inside as slowly as he could take it now. "What do ya' want?"

"You." she said, her head falling backwards. "I want you."

"Say it."

"I want you.." she exhaled as he made another pass, slow, steady. "oh, fucking shit. Daryl, fuck me. Now. Please." Another pass.

"Who's the best?" he teased.

"You are. Oh, God, you are." she moaned.

"Who's gonna put ya' on yer knees n' make ya' scream." Withdraw. Reenter.

"You are." she pushed her hips up to meet him, squeaking. "Baby, please."

"Say my name." he whispered in her ear as he put both hands around her neck, holding her firmly, pulling her face to his, dragging the flat of his tongue up the side of her cheek to match the speed, or lack thereof, of his hips. He could taste the salty sweat on her soft skin.

She pulled her head up and looked at him. Daryl's eyes were a blue flame, burning, scorching. She felt the little hairs on the back of her neck all but disintegrate in the heat of his gaze. Everything was on fire inside her. "Daryl." she said slowly, licking her lips. "Daaaryl." she drug it out to a slow whisper as he began to move quicker now.

"Fuckin' A right." he hissed as he continued to move faster now. He grabbed her by the back of the head now, his fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her towards him, towards the edge of the countertop. She dropped her head and clasped her hands behind his neck as he moved his hands to her ass and pulled her totally off the edge, slamming her into him as he took a step back. She screamed, a mixture of surprise, pain and pleasure, her head rolling back as he moved them with lightning speed. The next scream was hers as well, as a blinding orgasm rocked her, making her stiffen against him and then start to tremble. Daryl's followed immediately as he watched her grind herself into him, shaking and moaning. He held her against him as they both convulsed, leaning against the countertop to keep his knees from buckling.

She opened her eyes finally and looked at him, grinning. "I have never had sex in the bathroom of a mini-mart before." she said.

"If ya' had, I bet it wasn't like that." he grinned and kissed her softly, moving a strand of hair from her forehead.

"Nothing was ever like that." she nodded, kissing him back. She jumped a bit when she heard Rick's voice yelling for them in the store. There was a pounding on the door.

"Daryl? You in there?"

"Can't a man take a decent shit?" Daryl yelled back.

"Hey, we got walkers starting to pick up. We need to get out of here." Rick said calmly. "Grab Camille and be careful getting back to the truck."

Daryl winked and stepped back, pulling up his pants, tucking in his shirt. "Think the cat's outta' tha' bag, Cam."


	4. Chapter 4

_Once again, with feeling...I don't own or make any claim, have any rights to, yada yada ,the Walking Dead or any of it's characters...just my OCs. If I did,, Kirkman would be president and Daryl would be nekked. The entire show. Yeah...Nudist Daryl. Works for me! Oh, and Merle would be back to wreck havoc each and every week...and if I had any say over Talking Dead, Norman Reedus would be on each and every week, and it would be a six hour show, Jes' sayin'..._

_Warning: fluff, fluff, and more fluff...and a spit on your screen moment.  
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**Chapter 4**

"Ok, ten. "What's your favorite color?" Daryl said, kissing her head lightly.

"Blue. Clear, steely, unforgiving blue." she said, adjusting the side of her face on his chest, her fingers lightly tracing little circles there, tickling the smattering of hair. "Yours?"

"Eleven. Green."

"Oh, I could have told you that."

"How would ya' know that?"

"That was your twelve. Easy. Because you're always out where it's green. You're more comfortable in the woods than anywhere else. It's in your blood."

"Yeah. You're right. Thirteen. First time."

"Oh shit. You're kidding me, right?"

"That was your thirteen and no, I ain't."

"Jimmie Darmody, my boyfriend senior year. A week after graduation. Basement of his parents house,. His bedroom was down there. Hurt like hell. He lasted all of two minutes and I swore off boys until I met Robbie. Fourteen. Yours?"

"Damn fool, that boy. Wish it coulda' been me. I'da taken care of ya' right."

"Ya just did, Daryl. Now answer the question." Camille said, tweaking his nipple.

"Merle."

"What? Merle was your first time? DARYL?"

"Should count that 's yer' fourteen an' fifteen." he grinned. "'Member, ya' only git twenty n' don't be gross. I din't lose ma' cherry to ma' own brother. Merle set me up wi' one a' his girlfriends when I turned sixteen. Some skank he met in a bar. She could fuck real good, but it was kinda...I dunno. Weird. 'Least I learned tha' basics. Good ol' Nadine." Daryl had a faraway look in is eyes and was silent for a second. "Prob'ly a walker now. Fourteen. What was yer husband like?"

Camille rolled over to her side, turning her back to him. "I don't want to talk about it." she said softly.

"I do. I want to know. I wanna' know what kind a' man ya' married."

"Shit." she said under her breath. "He was a good guy. Funny Smart. Brave. Good in the sack. Hard worker. Took care of his family. Tall, dark and handsome, I guess." she sighed deep, letting go of much more than her breath. "I loved him the minute I saw him. We were like two peas in a pod - got to the point that we'd finish each other's sentences. When 9-11 came, he changed. It scared him. He quit his job and joined the Army. He would get done with one tour and go right back. Every time. I got to feel like he was more comfortable over there than he was here. He kept saying that he had to be there."

She sat up, pulling the sheet around her. "It was hard, ya' know? Waiting for him and worrying so much, then when he came back, he wasn't the same guy. We tried. We went to counseling together. We moved. We tried to have a kid. But he wasn't happy over here anymore. The last time he re-upped, he'd been gone for two months and I knew he wouldn't be back." Daryl put his arms around her and moved her closer, holding her against him. "I saw the car drive up. Big and black, military plates. I saw them get out and put on their hats and walk up my sidewalk with that look and I knew. I just knew. Robbie was gone and that was the end of it." Cam squeezed his arms and leaned into him. "Fuck. I didn't want to talk about this. I still feel guilty about it."

"Why would ya' feel guilty?"

"Because he was dead and I was...relieved. I felt him slipping out of my fingers for years and I couldn't to anything about it. All of a sudden, I didn't have to try anymore. I didn't have to face him coming home and us failing. It was," she shuffed up a breath in gulps and swallowed, "easier. I feel real damn guilty for feeling like I'd been given the easy way out."

"Yeah. I get that." he said, rocking her gently. "I'm sorry I brought it up. I was just..."

"Curious?"

"Yeah. That."

"It's ok. It was three years ago. I should be over it. He'd be dead now anyway, probably, if he'd stayed in the army he'd been sent to the CDC or Fort Benning and God knows what would have happened to him." she said flatly. "Ok, I'm changing the subject. Fifteen. What will you do if you find Merle?"

"Damn. I had that comin'. I dunno. Stay here. Try to make him see that we're safer in a group. Take care of him, I guess."

"If he said you had to leave with him, would you go?"

"Dunno. Depends."

"On what?"

"On a lot. Were we're goin'. What kinda' shape he's in. If he's with others. Stuff here. Dunno. Can't say." Daryl frowned. "This is gettin' too serious. What'm I on? Fifteen?"

"Yeah, I think.""'K. Ever had a three way?" he grinned and raised his eyebrows.

"Daryl DIXON!" she laughed. "No. I have not. I would not. I'm not the kind who could watch somebody with my man and be ok with it." Camille laughed. "I'd probably think it was hot for about ten seconds and then I'd have to kill her."

"Who says it'd be a her?" Daryl nudged her with his elbow.

"Oh, yeah, RIGHT!" she giggled. "You and another guy. That's rich! I can just picture it now. No, wait, my brain just exploded. Ok, my turn. Who in camp would you be screwing if I weren't around?"

"Whoa. Damn." Daryl rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm...Rick's lookin' awful good lately." he joked as Camille punched his arm. "Ok, Jesus. I don't know. Carol I guess. Lori belongs to Rick an' she's knocked up, besides. Shane's already been with Andrea an' I'd be afraid she'd shoot me again if I didn't make her come. Leaves Carol."

"Carol would be good. You two would be good together. Neither one of you have had easy lives. You're kindred souls, I think."

"Why won't ya spend the night w' me?" Daryl said flatly as he laid her down on her back and straddled her, supporting himself on his hands and knees. "Why do ya' give a shit if people know we're havin' sex or not?"

"That's sixteen...and seventeen." Camille said quietly. "Because. I snore."

"Ya' moan loud too. They all prob'ly know already. Pretty sure Rick does from tha' other day in the mini-mart."

"He'll keep his mouth shut." she said and then frowned slightly. "I have a feeling Dale knows."

"Dale fuckin' knows EVERYTHIN' that goes on 'round here." Daryl nodded. He leaned down and kissed her softly. "Why? Why won't ya?"

"Why is it important to you that they know?"

"S'not. Just don't care if they do. None a' their business. That was seventeen, by tha' way. Now answer me."

"I don't know, Daryl. I guess because I'm scared that if people think we're together, they'll treat us differently. If we think we're together, then we might start treating each other differently. Then if anything happens..." She was looking away from him now, avoiding his stare.

"Jesus Christ, Cam, I've had ma' dick up yer ass. I'd say that makes us ta'gether, don't y'all? What do ya' think's gonna' happen?"

She looked at him hovering over her. "I don't want it to change. Robbie and I changed. I don't want us to change."

"So yer' sayin' there is a US then?"

She blinked slowly, biting her lip.

"Admit it."

"I can't." she whispered. "I don't want to fuck it up."

"We ain't gonna fuck it up if we talk."

"You hate talking."

"Yeah. I hate talkin' 'bout feelins' too, but here we are."

She shifted her legs restlessly and looked at his chest. "We could always stop talking." she whispered.

"Nuh-huh."

"Shit. Ok, Daryl. I care about you. I care about you a lot. I don't want anything to happen to you and I don't want this to change between us. Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?' she said.

"Yeah."

"And..."

"And what?"

"Don't _you have anything to say?" Camille said, as she narrowed her eyes._

"Yeah. You're outta' questions. Game's over."

"Fucker." she snorted. "I should 'a known you'd do this."

"Shut up. I care 'bout ya' too. Ya' know that or I wouldn't put up w' ya' shit."

"What shit would THAT be, Daryl?"

"The shit ya' give me ta cover up how ya' really feel. Now shut up will ya', tha' neighbors' might hear ya'." he grinned. Camille started to say something back but before she could, Daryl covered her mouth with his and kissed her hard. When he did let her up for air, it was only for a few hurried breaths.

XXXXX

Camille dumped the drawer of MRE's into the backpack and smiled. "God bless those survival fanatics." she said out loud. She picked up the backpack and walked out of the kitchen of the small ranch house, down the hall towards the bathroom to check for medications and first aid supplies. As she walked towards the bathroom, she looked down to see a blood trail on the buckskin-colored Berber carpet . "Uh-oh." she said. The house had been clean thus far, the whole neighborhood appeared to have been deserted long before anyone became infected and turned, in fact. The blood stains became larger, smeared and darker, the closer she came to the bathroom. She pushed open the door and looked down at the floor. Smeared blood, blackish and dried, covered a large section of the white linoleum floor. "Oh God." she said quietly.

As she started to turn, she felt a sharp pain at the bottom of her leg, followed by a lightning-quick stabbing on the back of her foot. She jerked and whirled at the same time, looking down at the hallway floor. It was a walker. Or rather, the top part of a walker. It was missing everything from the waist down. It had once been a young boy, probably no more than 8, sandy brown hair cropped close, striped t-shirt now in tatters, and nothing below the jagged hem of the t-shirt. It rolled it's milky eyes and made a snarling sound, snapping and biting at her feet as she hopped and jumped trying to stay out of it's way, moving backwards towards the bathroom as best she could while shouldering the rifle and aiming at the skull, the partial body being propelled around by it's two bloody hands. "I'm sorry, Honey." she said, wincing, as she pulled the trigger.

The feeling of sadness for the young boy lasted only a second as she realized the pain radiating from her lower leg. "No, no, no!" she whispered as she looked at her ankle. Her thick socks had kept it from taking out an entire chunk of her flesh, but there was a large half-moon bite and several ugly open scratches just above where her socks ended. "Fuck me!" she cried, racing to the bathroom and tearing open the medicine cabinet. She spotted a bottle of rubbing alcohol and twisted off the top as fast as she could, propping her leg up on the sink and pouring the entire contents of the bottle on the wounds. She started to buckle, but managed to hold on to the faucet with one hand, emptying the bottle and reaching for a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, pouring it on the wound as well. It immediately foamed and bubbled as it hit the open flesh.

She scoured the cabinet for antibiotics, finally finding a bottle of Keflex. She recognized this as an antibiotic, although she had no idea if it would work on whatever geek-germs were. She took two and swallowed them without water, hiding the bottle in the pocket of her shorts. She washed off the blood and cleaned the scratches and bit as best she could, applying some Neosporin from a half-used tube she'd found on the other side of the sliding mirrored medicine cabinet. She rummaged again to find some large self-adhesive bandages and covered the wounds to try to keep the blood contained. The wound was red already, getting infected, she was sure. She was almost sick to her stomach by now, fear coiling in her stomach like a snake. Camille hobbled out of the bathroom an into one of the bedrooms and rummaged through dresser drawers, finding another pair of white socks, changing out of hers quickly, discarding the bloody sock under the bed.

She could hear Daryl coming down the hall, whispering her name, so she stood up quickly and continued to go through more dresser drawers.

"Hey." she said, to his reflection in the mirror of the dresser.

"You ok? Thought I heard ya' yell."

"I'm fine. Didja' see what popped out of one of the bedrooms though? Startled the hell out of me." she said, nonchalantly.

"Yeah. Looks like ya' got him. Let's get outta' here." he motioned with his bow towards the hall.

"Gladly." Camille nodded, picking up the rifle and the backpack from the bed and trying not to limp.

"Ya hurt?" Daryl said, putting his hand on her lower back.

"No, just turned my ankle a bit trying to jump back from that walker. It's fine. Not even sprained." she lied. Fuck. She had just lied to Daryl for he first time since she met him...and it wasn't exactly a little white lie, either.


	5. Chapter 5

_Please read and review. I can see you lurkers, you know..._

_Special note to S.L.I.: just wanting to see if you were all paying attention!_

**Chapter 5**

All the way back to the camp, Camille tried to ignore the searing pain in her ankle and leg. It hurt now to put weight on her leg, fire shooting up her calf and down into her foot, white-hot and throbbing with each beat of her heart. Daryl was quiet on the drive, keeping his eyes on the road and the vehicles in front of them. She looked at him as he drove, eyes narrowed, darting back and forth on the road, always on the lookout. Every so often, he'd glance over at her, still not saying anything. Camille turned towards the window, her back almost to him, and leaned her head against the glass, a silent signal that she didn't want to talk. That was a nice thing about Daryl - he was real adept at body language. That, and he just plain didn't like to talk much.

When they arrived, she hopped out of the truck quickly, landing on her left foot as she turned, babying her right, every attempt to bear weight almost causing her to cry out. She limped to her tent and sat down, leaving Daryl to unload the truck without her help.

"Is Camille ok?" Dale asked as he helped haul the boxes and bags out of the bed of the pickup. "I noticed she was limping."

"Twisted her ankle jumpin' 'way from a walker." Daryl said gruffly.

"Oh. Want me to take a look at it? I have an ace bandage in the big first aid kit...and ibuprophen, we have plenty of ibuprophen. " the older man offered.

"Ask her yourself." Daryl said gruffly.

XXXXX

Camille pulled the sock down to her ankle, wincing, and gingerly peeled the Telfa pad away from the bite. It was no longer bleeding, but it was red and raw, streaks radiating up her leg a good four inches. The ankle was slightly swollen, puffy and tender with some of the same streaks shooting out from the scratches as well. She smeared on some more antibiotic ointment and smoothed the crinkly rectangle back over the wound, pulling her sock back up. She laid down on the pillow and began to well up. Fuck me, she thought. How am I going to tell Daryl? How the fuck do I find the words to say I'm going to turn into a walker, Babe, please shoot me right after I die. "Motherfucker." she said out loud. "God-damned, cock-sucking, mother _fucker_."

There was a rustling outside the tent door and Camille realized she was about to have a visitor. She hastily wiped the hot tears from her cheek as the gentle voice said "Camille? It's Dale. Are you alright?"

Oh fucking great, she thought. The eye in the sky saw me limping. Just what I need right now. "I'm fine Dale. Just got a bum ankle. Couple of aspirin and it'll be fine tomorrow." she lied. The thought snapped through her mind that she wondered if she would have a tomorrow.

"I have an ace bandage if you'd like. I think we have a couple of Vicodin left too, if it gets to hurting too much."

Fuck. She remembered what Vicodin was like from having her wisdom teeth out. She liked Vicodin. A lot. She also got real loose and chatty on it. Definitely not something she needed to be right now. "Naw, Dale, let's save that for a real emergency. I'll be fine, really."

"Would you like me to take a look at it, see if it's sprained?"

"NO!" she snapped. "No, Dale. It's not a BFD. I'm really ...fine." she could tell there was an edge to her voice and at this point, she really didn't give a shit.

"Well, ok. Have Daryl come get me if you need anything, ok?"

"What makes you fuckin' think Daryl would be the one to know if I needed a God-damned thing, Dale?" she snapped for real this time. Nosey old fart.

"Oh, Camille, I just meant, I..." he was a bit flustered by her question. "You two seem to be becoming good friends. That's all. I meant nothing by it. I'm sorry if you thought I was implying anything else."

Crap. Now she felt kinda' bad. "Thank you for your concern but I think I have this under control. Bye, Dale." she said coolly.

She buried her head into the pillow and forced herself to stop breathing until he left, trying not to burst into the sobs which would inevitably cause him to come in to see what's wrong and then everyone would fucking know. She wasn't ready for that yet. This week's tribal council in another episode of Survivor Atlanta. Fate had voted her ass off the island and she was about to have her torch snuffed out by one of the ten other contestants. She could do it herself and spare everyone, she mused. She knew for sure, though, that there was one person that she didn't want doing it at all. No way could she ask Daryl to do it. Not him. She couldn't do that to _him_.

She thought ahead to the next few hours. The way her leg was hurting her, it probably wasn't going to take the full 72 hours that seemed to be the far end of the spectrum from those unfortunate people who were bitten. She reached into her pocket and took another Keflex. They were big. Horse pills, her mother would have called them. She grabbed a half-empty bottle of water from a box next to the bed and gulped it down, swallowing hard, forcing the pills down her dry throat. She laid back and closed her eyes, making a mental list of everything she had to do while she could still function. She had to tell Daryl. She had to tell the others. She had to ask someone to kill her. She had to say goodbye to people. She had to tell Daryl how she felt about him.

She cleared her throat quickly. Tell Daryl how she felt? Would that really help? Would that make him feel any better or just me, she thought. Should I even go there? How very much like a "Camille." Deathbed confession of undying love. Swan song. No. They hadn't said it to each other yet, so obviously it wasn't their thing. Why say it now and make matters worse? Goodbye was going to be hard enough. I've always loved you, my Darling, and now...goodbye. No. Awful. Too made-for-tv-movieish. Valerie Bertinelli and Meredith Baxter Birney already had those roles sewn up tight. Camille Varner was not going to do a remake. Not a fucking chance.

At this point, she didn't even know what she would say to him if he walked in the tent right now. Unfortunately, Camille found herself winging it. She heard heavy footsteps and the tent zipper wrench and the next thing she knew was Daryl was standing over her.

"Late for dinner." he said scowling. What the fuck was he pissed at, she wondered. I'm the one dyin' here.

"Not hungry. Let me sleep."

"Ankle hurt?"

"A bit. Plus, I'm tired."

He turned without saying anything and started through the door. "You look like shit." he said.

"Fuck you, Cracker. You ain't exactly George Clooney. You're ain't even Rosemary Clooney."

"Well fuckin' pardon me for givin' a shit." he snarled and disappeared as the flap clanked with a heavy slap against the tent. She heard him mutter "Hateful bitch" as he walked away. He was right, she winced.

She rolled over to her side, away from the door and began to cry, half from the pain in her lower leg, half from everything else she was feeling. The emotions roiled through her, churning her gut, jumbling her thoughts. She could feel the heat radiating through her now, as the fever set in. She guessed that this would be just the beginning. She closed her eyes and fell asleep within a few minutes, a fitful, restless sleep. Even while she slept, she was vaguely aware of everything going on around her. She could hear voices from the others in camp eating dinner, plates and silverware scraping together, hear birds singing their night-calls in trees, the wind pick up and blow the leaves and flutter the tents. What she didn't hear was Daryl come back in with a plate. He sat it down on the box next to the now-empty water bottle and sat next to her on the canvas floor of the tent.

Daryl reached over and pulled a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin as he did. Mother of God, she was hot, he thought. He put his hand on her forehead. Burning up. He shook her by the arm. "Cam." he said. "CAM." This time louder, rousing her out of her sleep.

"What the fuck? Daryl. What?" she said groggily, her head thick from the fever.

"Yer' sick." he said. "What tha' fuck 's wrong w' ya'?" he frowned and stroked her forehead again.

"Stop it." she said, batting his hand away. "I'm fine. I must have picked up a bug or something. Go back to dinner."

"Lemme' see yer' leg." he demanded, his hand on her hip now. "Ya didn't twist no ankle."

"No. It's fine." she said, "Now get the fuck out of here. Leave me the hell alone."

"No fuckin' way. Lemme see it." he moved quickly to lay his weight on top of her thighs and grabbed at her right leg as Camille cried out from the pain.

"Daryl, no. Stop it!" she protested, trying to wrench free as he jerked the sock down and looked at the bandage. He took a corner and pulled it off gently, expecting something different. He froze.

It took Daryl about six seconds from the time he realized what he was really looking at to the time the sound escaped his mouth. The first scream of "No!" shot through the camp like a pistol going off. The second and third made the others outside drop their plates and run towards Camille's tent. Rick and Shane were the first two in, bumping into Daryl as he ran out, his hands flailing. The two stood here, giving Camille a blank look until their eyes trailed down her leg to the red, swollen ankle, half-covered by a sock. Outside they could hear more screaming and cursing from Daryl, things being knocked over, smashed.

"Camille!" Rick said, rushing to her, hovering over her leg. "You're bit. You've been bitten!"

"Aww, FUCK!" Shane swore, his hands moving through his thick dark hair. "Fuck!" he yelled, his feet marching in place, legs moving nervously.

Camille didn't know what to say. There was nothing much to say. Everyone was crowding around the tent opening while Daryl was still outside and T-Dog was trying to contain him. Lori and Andrea came in and crowded around and both started to immediately cry. Camille could hear Carol sobbing from just outside the tent.

"When?" Rick asked softly, moving to sit beside her. "Camille, did this happen today when we were in town?"

"Yes. The little white ranch house. I didn't see it, it was a little boy, only like, half a body. It grabbed my ankle." she smiled weakly. "Guess that's why they call little kids ankle-biters, huh?" Her eyes were starting to sting from the tears welling up. "Fuck, Rick. I'm sorry."

"No, Camille. I'm sorry. We're all so sorry. How do you feel?" he was holding her hand now, squeezing it tightly.

"Been better." she winced.

"What can we do for you?" Andrea said quietly, her teary eyes wide.

"Nothing. I don't need anything. I just need to talk to Daryl. Alone."

"That might not be a good idea right now." Dale said, glancing towards the door. "He's pretty upset."

"He's upset? I'm the one that's hours from being a fucking walker." she snorted, half coughing. "You tell him to get his dumb ass in here right now, ok, Dale? Tell him get a fucking grip, I need to talk to him."

"Ok. We'll clear out, but we're here for you. Anything. You just ask, ok?" Lori leaned in and kissed Camille's forehead. Camille looked at Rick and nodded.

"I'll be asking...soon enough." she said quietly, as Rick nodded back and looked down at the floor.

The group shuffled out, heads down, the women either sobbing or wiping their eyes. There were words exchanged outside. Loud, angry-sounding words. Camille laid her head back on the cool pillow and waited. A few minutes went by and Daryl's face appeared above her. It was splotchy red, his eyes were red-rimmed. He slipped his hand around hers and bent over, kissing her shoulder.

"That walker?"

"Yeah. I didn't even see him when I went by. He must have been in one of the smaller bedrooms. Christ, he was so far gone, I shoulda' at least smelled him. "

"What'd ya' do? I see tha' bandage. What'd ya' do ta' clean it up?"

"Alcohol. Peroxide. Antibiotic cream. Right away. Found some Keflex and been taking them every couple-three hours. " She turned her face away from him, fighting back the tears. "I'm so sorry, Daryl. I should have been more careful. I should have worn boots. I should have-"

He cut her off . "Ya' should'a stayed in camp 'n not been there. It's all my fault. I shoulda' made ya' stay here where it was safe."

"Yeah, tell that to Amy and Jim and the others. There IS no place safe nowadays, Daryl. You know that." Camille shook her head. "I fucked up. This is what happens when you're not careful."

Daryl sat down next to the bed and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Don't know what ta' do." he said, his voice filled with emotion.

"Just stay here." she said. "But I want you to leave when it gets bad, ok. Daryl, you have to promise me that."

"No. Won't do that. I'm ain't leavin' ya'."

"You fuckin' well better. I don't want you to have to watch. I can't have you watch. I mean it, get the hell out when it comes time."

"Shut up. I ain't doin' it 'n you can cuss n' scream n' holler all ya' want. I ain't lettin' ya' go."

"God DAMNIT, Daryl. Don't you fucking do this to me. I can't let you watch me die."

"Then don't." he said, shaking his head. "Fight this. Kick it's ass. Fight." he said, pressing his lips together. "Yer' tha' meanest, most bull-headed, strong-willed woman I ever met. Fight this, Cam. Fight. Fight it for me."

"Daryl." she said, tipping over the edge, the tears now flowing, sobs beginning to rack her body. He moved to beside her on the bed, his arms around her, the heat coming off of her body. She was like standing too close to a wood stove. The air between them was even hot.

"Baby, close yer' eyes now. Get some rest. I ain't goin' nowhere." he whispered.

Camille closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but her mind was racing. She finally nodded off and slept lightly while Daryl held her, stroking her hair and her shoulder with one hand and wiping his own tears with his other.


	6. Chapter 6

_No, I don't own or make any claims to the WD, y'all know that. _

_Please read and review...and y'all stop trying to guess what happens next, or I'll pull a Crazy Ivan on you and bring back Verna to screw with all yer' little brains, lol! _

**Chapter 6**

"God DAMN it, Rick. It's Jim all over again." Shane winced and adjusted the faded baseball cap. "We gotta do something. We just gonna take her somewhere and let her die on her own? We gonna let her die in front of our eyes and one of us have to take care of her before she turns? We gonna let her go until she turns?"

"We let her make the decision on what she wants to do, just like we did Jim." the quiet, brown-haired man said.

"You think Daryl's gonna' let us do that?" Shane looked at Rick, eyes wide. "You really think he's just gonna let you walk up to the girl he's been screwing and just let you put a bullet in her brain?"

"How would you know? And yes, I think if he cares about her enough, he'll let her decide what she wants." Rick shook his head.

"Listen to yourself, Rick. IF he cares about her? When has he ever cared about anybody but himself?"

"So then just what are you suggesting, Shane? That we take care of her now? That we dump her somewhere? You keep sayin' I can't make the tough decisions, tell me, what do YOU think we should do?"

"I think we need to get her out of camp, that's what we should do. Carl, Lori, Andrea, Carol - they don't need to go through this again. Christ, Carol lost Sophia. She watched you put a bullet in her little girl's head. You think she can go through that again?"

"Ain't exactly the same. What you're suggesting is morally wrong. We can't do that to Camille. " Rick clenched his fist. "What is _wrong _with you? Don't you have any empathy for anyone anymore?"

Shane lowered his head and looked at Rick from under his brow. "This ain't about empathy. It's about survival, pure and simple. What's moral, what's right or wrong, those 're the least of our worries. We have to do this for the good of the group. For all our safety."

"No. We do not." Rick stepped towards Shane and looked him in the eye, his finger planted squarely in the middle of Shane's muscular chest. "You will not mention this conversation to anyone. You will keep your mouth shut and your opinions to yourself. Camille is sick, she's dying. We have an obligation to see that she's comfortable and has everything she needs up until the very end. But SHE decides, Shane. Not me, not you, not anybody else. Camille decides."

XXXXX

Camille woke up, drenched in sweat. Her clothes were damp, the sleeping bag was damp, everything was soaking. She felt something on her hand, something cool, surrounding it with gentle pressure. It was Daryl's hand. He was laying beside her, not touching her, but holding her hand. She squeezed it and he immediately answered.

"Cam. Yer' awake. What do ya' need?" he asked, sitting up.

"Water. Aspirin." she croaked. She tried sitting up but couldn't manage it. The pain in the back of her head was enormous, throbbing, like somebody was inside her skull going to town with a ballpeen hammer. "Fuck, my head hurts." she said.

Daryl put his arm around her and helped her sit half-way up. He handed her a cup of water from the table beside the bed. "Need more a' that Keflex, too. You been asleep fer' four hours." He took two aspirin from a bottle on the table, and two more of the two-toned green capsules and put them in her hand. "Baby," he said, putting his hand to her forehead. "Yer fever's broke."

"I know. I'm so sweaty I'm cold now." she said, between gulps of the pills and water.

"Let's git ya' changed." he said. Daryl rose from the mattresses that served as her bed and rummaged in a plastic tote, finding a gray t-shirt and a pair of shorts. He took the cup of water and set it aside. helping her to sit up. He raised her arms gingerly helped her remove her shirt. "Bra?" he asked.

"Can you keep your hands to yourself?" she smiled, looking up at him.

Daryl looked at her red-rimmed eyes, her sweaty matted hair, the pale, clammy skin sunken in around her eyes. "Nope." he smiled.

"Awesome. No bra then." she said, leaning forward for him to unclasp the back closure. He pulled it off gently, kissing the top of her head, and helped her into the clean t-shirt.

He unsnapped her denim shorts and helped her off with them, changing to a pair of more comfortable knit ones.

"I wanna check that bite." he said. He removed the sock and the gauze pad and inspected it. It was ugly, obviously infected, the streaks were still there. It appeared that nothing had changed since he first saw it. "Looks the same, Cam." he said quietly, as he replaced the covering and pulled the sock up. "Are you hungry?"

"Fuck no." she sighed. "Just thirsty as shit."

"That's tha' fever." he nodded. "Ya' can't get dehydrated, gotta' keep drinkin' water." He handed her a bottle.

"But it tastes like shit." she said. "How can water taste like shit?" she rolled her eyes.

"Just keep drinkin'." he said, rubbing his hand on her thigh absentmindedly.

"You tryin' to feel me up, there, Dixon?" she said, a small grin crossing her face.

"Can't help it." he said, leaning forward and resting his forehead against hers. "Ain't right. You been in bed this long n' we ain't been busy once."

She snorted a bit and laid back against the pillow. "It'd be the mercy fuck to end all mercy fucks, huh?" She coughed into her elbow.

"Shut up." he said, squeezing her hand. "Ya' get better n' I won't show ya' any mercy 't all."

"Promise?"

"Swear ta' God." he said. In reality, he was making promises to God. All kinds of promises. Daryl Dixon had prayed more in the last four hours than he'd prayed in his entire life. One single solitary prayer. Just one. Over and over.

XXXXX

"Dale, Daryl says she's been taking something she found, some antibiotic. Is that gonna help?" Lori asked, her arms wrapped around her drawn-up knees.

"I don't know. He told me it was Keflex. That's usually used for bacterial infections. I always was under the impression that this whatever-it-is is viral. I don't think it will hurt but, on the other hand, I don't see how it will help, either. If you're asking me if it will cure her or by her some time..." his words trailed off.

"I just can't believe it. I don't want to believe it." Andrea said quietly.

Glenn spoke up. He'd been quiet all evening, just watching, listening as the events had unfolded. "How long do you think, I mean," he shifted in his folding chair, uncomfortable, awkward, "how long does she have?"

"Probably not more than a day or two, I would guess." Dale said. "Lot depends upon how much her body tries to fight the infection." He shook his head. "Lord knows, Camille's a fighter."

"What do we do in the meantime?" Lori asked.

"Nothing we can do but be there for her and make her as comfortable as we can." Dale said nodding. "Let her know we care about her."

XXXXX

Camille raised her head and looked around for Daryl. He was sitting next to the mattress, his chin on his chest. She could hear him snoring lightly, dozing.

"Hey. Dixon." she whispered.

His eyes snapped open and he leaned in to her. "Hey Varner." he said, smiling. "How ya' feel?"

"Shitty."

"I know. What can I git' ya?" he said, running his fingers across her forehead to move her hair to the side.

"Nothing. I'm ok." she said.

"How's yer' head?" he asked.

"Still hurts. Everything hurts now. Even my hair hurts." she smiled. "How you doin'?"

"Been better." he said, kissing her forehead.

"I don't want to do this." she said.

"Then don't." he said quietly.

"It don't work like that."

"Sure it does. Nobody can make ya' do nothin' ya' don't wanna' do, Camille. Not me, not nobody else. You can do this, I know ya' can."

"If I do, what then?" she said bluntly.

"Then we go forward. You 'n me."

"I like that." she said weakly. "Ok."

"Need more antibiotics now, though, 'n aspirin too. Can ya' eat anything?"

"No. I just want to take another nap."

"Ok." he said, reaching to the box beside the bed. Daryl helped her sit up and when she was done with the pills and the water, he moved behind her, laying her back against his chest, his arms around hers, holding her tightly as she settled back into him.

"Mmm." she said, closing her eyes. "I like this too."

XXXXX

About an hour later, Camille began to tremble. She was still sleeping, laying against his chest, but her legs and arms were now shaking. Her breathing became more shallow and the tremors slowly became stronger. He felt her forehead; she was burning up. Five minutes ago, she was fine, now her fever was raging. Daryl's heart sank as he held her close, rubbing her arms with his hands, rocking her gently as she shook. After about fifteen minutes the tremors stopped but she was still burning up, her whole body throwing off heat that made Daryl sweat as well. He kept the blankets on, knowing that a chill could be dangerous.

The next eight hours were a cycle of tremors and high fever, spiking and then slacking off, only to repeat again in half-hour intervals. During the whole time, she woke briefly, complaining of thirst and a severe headache, only to fall asleep a short time later.

Carol came in at one point and brought Daryl a plate of food and some more water.

"How is she?" she asked quietly, kneeling beside the mattress.

Daryl just shook his head.

"Don't give up." she said. "You never gave up on Sophia. Don't give up on Camille." she said softly, laying her hand on his arm.

He looked at her and looked away quickly. "Won't. " he sighed. "Can't."

XXXXX

Daryl woke up and rubbed his eyes, ashamed that he had dozed off. Camille was sleeping again, listless, her brown hair matted flat against her pale skin. He rested his head against her arm, cool, clammy. Her fever was gone, but for how long, he wondered. What was next for her? He kissed where his head had been and she stirred, her hand moving to his arm.

Outside he could hear angry voices. Shane's could be heard above the others. Andrea's hissed something unintelligible and Dale's calm words were clear. "You can't be serious, Shane." he said. "You can't expect us to be on board with that."

Daryl rose and stepped closer to the door.

"It's our only move, surely you all can see that. She's probably going to die today and then it's only a matter of time before she turns. We can't let that happen. None of us need to go through with that again." Shane shook his head. "I won't allow it."

"You don't get to decide this, Shane." Rick said. "I told you that you before. This discussion is over."

"No. It ain't. You don't wanna' face facts. That girls' gonna die and she needs to be out of here before that happens."

The bolt shot across camp with a loud hiss, narrowly missing Shane's head, impaling a tree twenty feet behind him. Daryl took a step closer to the group gathered around the fire, lowering his crossbow only slightly. "Say one more word, motherfucker." he growled, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I dare ya'. Say another word 'bout her."

"Easy Daryl. Nobody's going to let that happen. You have my word." the thin dark-haired man said calmly, looking at Shane with contempt in his eyes. "Shane doesn't speak for anybody else. He's just talkin' out of his ass."

"He comes near her, I'll kill him." Daryl said flatly, his arm swinging wildly, like he was chucking a rock into an invisible pond, crossbow in his other hand. "He ain't gonna do to her what y'all did to Merle." he shouted. "Fuck y'all." he said, turning back to the tent. The others watched him disappear and turned their eyes back to Shane, everyone glaring.

"I think you'd better make yourself scarce for a while." Rick turned to Shane.

"What, you're kicking me out now? Because I'm the only one willing to face facts? Willing to do what's necessary for us to survive?" he hissed.

"No, because you're the one about to get an arrow through his head and right now, no one would blame Daryl a bit." T-Dog took a step towards Shane. "If I were you, I'd go chill in my tent."

XXXXX

Camille opened her eyes and looked around the tent. It was dark, except for a small candle on the makeshift bedside table. She could feel Daryl's warm body next to hers, his arms around her shoulders, a leg over hers. She moved her arm to his chin and rubbed gently, causing him to jolt.

"Cam."

"Hey. What time is it?"

"I dunno. Night-time. You been asleep for two days now."

"What?"

"How ya' feel?"

"Like fucking shit." This made Daryl grin. Sick as she was, she still was cussing.

"How's yer head?"

"Uhm, sore but it not killing me like it was. I've really been asleep for two days?"

"Yeah. Ya' know ya' talk in yer' sleep?"

"I do not." she frowned. "Daryl?"

"Yeah, Baby?" he said, moving a strand of hair from her forehead.

"Shouldn't I be dead by now?" she looked at him, her red-rimmed eyes wide.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks for the reviews and alerts!_

Chapter 7

They were all gathered around the low fire, quiet, contemplative. Waiting. Nobody wanted to talk about why they were all waiting, and no one felt like they could go on to bed. No one really wanted to leave the silent circle., it felt, disrespectful. The fact that Camille had lasted two days longer than expected had not really surprised anyone. They all knew she was tough, at least the few short weeks they'd come to get to know her, they all had the same impression. Outspoken. Aggressive. A fighter. The fact that it was taking her a little longer than most to succumb to the disease wasn't really something that had shocked them at all. So when Daryl came out of the tent, shaking his head, walking towards the group huddled around the fire, they all stood up, a collective feeling of dread like a wave through the camp. Lori started to cry.

"Daryl." Carol said softly as she moved to him and put her arm on his.

"She's..." he said quietly, looking down at the fire. "She's..." he took a deep breath, playing it for all it was worth. Lori started to sob loudly, grabbing Rick and burying her head into his chest. "Hungry."

Dale looked at Daryl like he had two heads. How could he joke about her like this? Had she passed and turned already? "Daryl, what do you mean, son?" he asked.

"She's awake, talking...an' she's hungry."

"Whaaaat?" Andrea said, bolting for the tent, the others following right behind as Daryl stood, snickering. Shane was the only one that wasn't moving. Daryl took two steps closer to where he was sitting in a tattered plastic folding chair.

"And you, motherfucker, you wanted ta' send her ta' tha' woods ta' die like a sick dog. Ya' bes' watch yer' ass from now on." he snarled and pointed at the shaven-headed man. "I won't hesitate ta' take ya' out."

Shane sat silently, his eyes still on the fire. He refused to meet Daryl's eyes as the tall man stood there in front of him, fists clenching. Shane knew he was still right, he knew that what he'd proposed was the safest thing for all of them. Just because she hadn't died yet didn't mean she wasn't going to. If she didn't, well, that was just as dangerous too, she could be carrying the virus and would spread it to all of them. This wasn't the end of it.

XXXXX

"Camille?" Andrea said softly, outside the tent flap. "Camille can we come in?"

"Yeah." she said weakly. Camille was propped up on a couple pillows. Daryl had put her hair up in a pony tail and helped her wash off her face with a cool rag before he'd gone to tell the others.

"Hey, Hon." Carol said, sitting down next to her. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. I think I feel a bit better."

Dale spoke next. "I don't believe what I'm seeing. Camille, Sweetheart, I am so glad you're awake." he said, patting the mattress, being careful not to touch either of her legs.

"You 'n me both, Dale." she grinned. "I still tired, though. Really tired...and hungry."

"Daryl said you were hungry." Andrea said smiled. "That means you're getting better."

Rick stuck his head in the tent. "Hey, can I crash this hen party?" he said, smiling. "Oh, hey, sorry Dale!" he added, winking. "Camille, this is just..." he stopped. "Well, it's just..."

"Weird. Bizarre. Not the outcome you were expecting?" Camille said.

"I was thinking more along the lines of the answer to our prayers, but yeah, all of that too." he said. "Hey gang, don't tire her out. Let's get her something to eat and let her rest."

"Sweetie, you look wonderful." Lori said. "I'm so happy you're still with us."

"Thanks. You're lying through your teeth about how I look, but thanks anyway." Camille said.

Everyone left the small tent and Daryl came back in and sat down next to her on the floor. He tried to be cool. He tried so hard to be calm and reserved, but inside he felt like a crazed jack-in-the-box. He felt like he was grinning and bobbing up and down, arms flailing out of control. He was half-afraid that he would jinx things if he showed too much, allowed himself to be too happy or relieved.

"So." he said, biting his thumbnail. "Gonna' git ya' ass outta' that bed anytime soon?" He peered nonchalantly up at the ceiling. "Don't ya' think ya' been lollygagging 'round here long 'nuff?"

"Fuck off, Cracker." she smiled, sighing.

"I always said you was meaner 'n a snake." he grinned. "Guess ya' proved me right."

"Don't count your chickens." she said quietly. "We don't know what's going on."

"Don't really give a shit what's goin' on. Yer' still here. That's all I care about." he said, leaning over and kissing the side of her head. "Wanna' lay down 'till Carol brings you something to eat?"

"No. I wanna talk."

"Fuck." he sighed.

"Daryl, why?"

"I don't know. Maybe ya' didn't really get bit. Maybe that walker was so weak or small that there weren't nothing in him. Maybe yer' just that one person that is 'mune to it." he shrugged.

"But how can that be? Nobody gets a pass with this crap. Have you ever heard of it? Have you ever heard of anybody getting bit and not turning?"

"No, but that don't mean it don't happen."

"What happens if it's just taking longer?"

"Then we deal with it. We just need ta' take things one step atta' time. 'N right now, yer' here, so stop askin' questions 'n just rest."

"Got one more question."

"Fuck." he sighed again. "What?"

"Who'd you try to shoot?"

"Nobody."

"Now you're just plain lyin' to me. I heard a bolt let loose."

"It was nothing."

"Damn it, Daryl. What's going on? You came back madder than a hornet. Who did you take a shot at?"

"Forget about it, 'k?"

Daryl was saved by a quiet "Knock Knock" outside the tent. It was Carol, with a bowl of warmed-up canned soup and a cup of tea on small tray "I hope this is ok. You haven't eaten anything in a while, so Andrea and I thought it might set better on your stomach."

"Thanks. You guys are too sweet."

"Can I get you anything else?" the frail-looking woman said, glancing at Daryl and Camille. She knew from the frustrated look on Camille's face that something was up. She handed the tray to Daryl.

"Naw. We're good." Daryl interjected. "This is...good. Thanks." he said, looking at Camille and turning his head slightly, as if giving her a warning. Carol was all to familiar with that look, having seen it from Ed a million times.

"Thanks Carol, this is wonderful, really." Camille said. "Thank Andrea for me, too, ok?"

Carol wiped her hands on her pants and nodded her head, turning to go. "Camille?" she said softly. "I really am glad things turned out like they did." she said, her voice wavering as she turned back and exited the tent.

Daryl sat the tray down gingerly on Camille's lap and noticed that her eyes were a little moist.

"Don't do that again." she said, narrowing them at him.

"Do what?"

"What you just did. That look. Do you think I was going to ask Carol and put her in the middle of something?"

"Didn't know."

"Well, hear this, Redneck, " she said, pointing the spoon at him, "I don't operate like that. What's between you and me is between you and me. Nobody else."

"Don't call me a damn Redneck."

"Fine. Hilljack."

"Stop it."

"Cracker."

"Cam. Shut it."

"Hoo, you gotta purty mouth on you, boy." she grinned. "Come on, squeal like a pig for me."

"CAM!" Daryl's face was red now. Flustered. "I hate that fuckin' movie."

"What's the matter? I thought all you country boys liked a woman with a little sass."

"No, it's ass, a little ass, 'n if ya' don't shut up n' eat, I'm gonna' blister yers."

"Promises, promises." she said, sipping the chicken and rice soup gingerly. Daryl sat the tray aside and smoothed the pillows out. Camille was starting to yawn and he could tell from her eyes that she was having a hard time staying awake to finish the now lukewarm tea that Carol had brought. He moved next to her on the mattress and gently pulled her to him, pulling her head to his chest. He had become used to sleeping like this over the last few days; he could make sure she was ok. He could make sure she was still breathing, he recalled and winced. He remembered there were some times that he literally counted her breaths, silently cheering her on from one to another.

"I'm fading fast." she said.

"Wore yerself out. Gotta' rest." he said, putting a hand on her forehead on the pretense of smoothing her hair, surreptitiously checking for any signs that her fever was returning. It was cool, dry. He said a tiny silent thank-you to whomever may have been listening. Her breathing slowed and he knew that she was drifting off. He followed behind her shortly.

XXXXX

By next evening, Camille continued to stay awake each time for a longer period as the naps in-between becoming shorter and shorter. Daryl had checked her bite and the scratches to her leg and was surprised at how good they looked. They were still red and a bit swollen, but they were no longer streaky or oozing. They had seemed to look better, quite a bit better. Like they were...healing.

Camille was still not eating much and was real quiet. Unlike her to be quiet. He figured she'd be griping about something but she didn't. She just laid there, staring off into space, sometimes she'd look at him and smile, others she would put his hand to her cheek.

"Dixon." she said

"Varner."

"Why didn't you say it?"

"Say what?

"You know what."

He knew exactly what she was talking about without her even saying and he didn't want to have this conversation.

"Didn't seem right."

"Ouch. Well. Ok."

"Shut it."

"Wow. Nice."

"Ya' don't understand." he shook his head.

"You fucking got that right." she frowned. "How 'bout you explain it to me."

"I didn't wanna' say it 'cause I din't want ya' ta' think that was tha' only reason I was sayin' it."

"Huh? I'm not following you."

"Shit." he sighed, uncomfortable as hell. "I didn't want ya' ta' think I was only sayin' it because ya' were...you know..."

"Dying?"

"Yeah."

"So you didn't say it because you didn't want me to think you were lying to me?"

"Yeah."

"So you were willing to let me die without saying it not because you didn't want me to think you didn't but because you didn't want me to think you were just trying to make me feel good?"

Daryl fidgeted, running his hand around the back of his neck. "That don't 'xactly sound right."

"Uh-huh. Sounds pretty shitty to me too."

"I woulda' told ya' tha' truth."

"Before or after I died? Before I turned? Before Rick put a bullet in me?" Camille's cheeks were red and her eyes flashed at him. "What IS the truth, Daryl, I think I'm a little confused."

"Aw, fuck it. You know how I feel about ya'."

She smirked. "Not quite sure I do. Wouldn't to think you were just _saying _it, what ever _it _is."

"Shit. Why ya' gotta' do this? Last thing ya need is fer' us ta' be fightin' n' ya get sick."

"No, Daryl, last thing I need is your dumb ass in here right now. Leave me alone, ok?"

"Ain't gonna' do that.

"Well, how about this. I take all the pressure off of you. You don't have to worry about saying it at all. Ever."

"Cam, don't."

"Is that easier? Since I don't seem to be dyin' quite yet, you don't have to even think about it. Now, get the fuck out of here." she said, rolling to her side, turning her back to him.

"Fine. Have it yer' way. I'm tha' hell outta' here."

"Good. Piss off."

"Hateful bitch."

"Ignorant hillbilly."

Camille closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep as Daryl took his time gathering up his bow and a blanket and left the tent. She started to well up the minute she heard the riiiiip of the tent zipper and his footsteps on the hard ground outside, packed down from the traffic in and out of the tent. If she had listened harder, she would have heard him take a few steps and then sit down on the ground, wrapping the blanket around him against the damp night air, leaning against the cooler just outside the tent. He stayed there all night, periodically checking on her, leaning into the tent flap to quietly listen to the sound of her breathing as she slept. At times he could hear her sniffling softly, too, but decided that now was not the right time. She needed to rest, not get pissed off at him, and lord, that girl could get pissed off.


	8. Chapter 8

_Please read and review. Seriously guys! _

_Yes, this is a short chapter, but hey, you got two today and I think it stands by itself best._

Chapter 8

Camille rolled over to the empty side of the mattress. No Daryl. Fuck, she thought to herself. She looked around the tent for his crossbow. Not there either. Son of a bitch, she swore under her breath. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hide-in-the-woods. Typical man.

She laid back against the pillow and closed her eyes, thinking of their exchange the night before. All she wanted to hear from him is that he cared about her. She wasn't necessarily looking for him to use the L-word. God knows that would have taken a minor miracle and she was pretty much sure she'd used up her allotment these last couple days. She just wanted to know where he stood. To know how he felt. Say it out loud, Daryl. Just let me hear it once.

Fuck, she smacked her head as she realized the obvious. Daryl Dixon wasn't going to be fawning over her, bringing her daisies he'd picked in some meadow. Dead squirrels and deer, yeah, wildflowers, no. He wasn't going to be reading her poetry or writing her love songs. The last thing he probably read was one of Merle's well-worn Hustler magazines. He sure as hell wasn't going to be saying "I love you" at the drop of a hat. It just wasn't in him to be emotional, must less talk about his feelings. He wasn't exactly the touchy-feely kind of guy. He could show her in his actions, but he sure wasn't going to _say _it unless he was forced to...and that's exactly what she'd tried to do.

She felt massively guilty for being so unfair to him. She'd backed him into a corner and then nailed him for being true to his nature. The one thing she loved about him more than anything else was that Daryl Dixon wasn't flexible. He didn't adjust to a changing situation well. He had a moral compass set all his own and he did not deviate from it. Right was right and wrong was wrong and there were no gray areas. Daryl did what he thought was right. Nothing more, nothing less.

Camille sat up, legs stretched out in front of her, and clicked her bare feet together, trying to think of how to fix this. Oddly, this didn't cause her ankle to give her much grief, she thought fleetingly. She had pushed him. Too far. She felt like shit about it now. She was angry at herself, furious, that it had even mattered to her. It is what it is, it was working fine. Why did she have to go and fuck it up?

XXXXX

Andrea shot Dale a look and then looked back at Daryl as he sat outside the tent, blanket wrapped around his shoulders. She walked to him slowly, hoping he would wake up before she got there. She was a bit nervous about his reaction to being woken up. Daryl was twitchy at best, now that he was pissed and twitchy, Lord knows what he might do if he's startled.

"Don't want no breakfast." he said, without opening his eyes.

"Ok. Do you think Camille would like something to eat?"

"Ask her yerself." he snarled, opening his eyes. They were a dark steely blue, still very angry.

"Ok. Sure. I can do that." she said, nodding her head and moving towards the tent. "Camille?"

"What?" the voice inside snapped.

"Take a big stick." Daryl said over his shoulder, closing his eyes again and settling down into the blanket once more. "Better yet, shoot _her _this time."

"Cam, can I come in?"

"Yeah." the voice called loudly. "Just don't bring any vermin in with you. Or any of the squirrels he may have shot.

Andrea disappeared inside of the tent before she saw Daryl lift his middle finger. "You ok, Hon?" she said, her eyebrows raised, causing the thin blonde's forehead to wrinkle with little horizontal ripples.

"No. As you can see, Mr. Dixon and I are currently engaged in a disagreement of sorts."

"Uh, yeah, I think everybody figured that out when he slept outside the tent last night."

"Fuck. He did that?" Camille closed her eyes and shook her head. "That man is so pig-headed."

"That's why you two are a perfect match." she grinned. She sat the pan down and moved to the side of the mattress. "Can I ask what happened?"

"I did a stupid thing." Camille opened her eyes and rubbed her forehead with her hand. "I screwed things up good. Now I don't know how to fix them so I'm just being a bitch to him."

"Can't you just tell him you screwed up?"

"Have you _met _me?" Camille smiled. "Seriously. I started it, I asked him to do something I had no right to do and when he balked, I got my feelings hurt."

"I bet if you said just that, he'd understand."

"Ok, have you met _him_?"

"Yeah you're right." Andrea giggled. "So what are you going to do?"

"Well, I guess try to apologize and hope he listens. Make him listen to me. Other than that, I dunno. Make-up sex is apparently off the table for the time being." Camille frowned.

"You ARE feeling better if you're thinking about THAT!" Andrea laughed.

"Ok, again, have you _met _him?" the brunette snickered. "I don't know what to do. All I know is that I wish I could take it all back. But I can't. So, let's change the subject because I'm just fucking getting depressed now. What brings you over?"

"Breakfast." Andrea said, pointing to the pan of cooling powdered eggs. "You hungry?'

XXXXX

Daryl went to the woods that day for the first time since before Camille was bitten. He missed hunting, missed the sounds of the wind through the tree limbs, the dappled sunlight through the leaves, the feeling in his legs and arms as he walked silently, warily. He missed the excitement of tracking something a long distance. The thrill of the hunt. The satisfaction of knowing he was valuable, contributing to the group's survival. He missed something else, too. The sound of Cam breathing. Her voice. The feel of her hair against his neck.

He lowered his crossbow and rested his back against a tree. Shit, he thought. The internal dialogue started again. Why couldn't I just tell her? It's not a big deal, lotta' guys say it even when they don't mean it. She needed to hear it. She needed to know or she wouldn't have brought it up, not with her pride, no freakin' way. Daryl frowned and bit the inside of his lower lip. Gotta fix this when I get back. Even if she don't want to hear it. I'm gonna say it.

Daryl's attention was distracted by a pair of walkers, ambling along the dry creek bed, shuffling through downed leaves and snapping twigs as they drug-food along. It appeared they were an older couple, the man dressed in polyester dress pants pulled up high on his pot belly by a shiny brown belt, a ragged, button-up shirt stained dark with dried blood and other assorted nastiness, knit cardigan hanging loosely from one shoulder. Somebody's pa-paw.

The woman had on a dress of sorts, snaps down the front, loose-fitting. The kind you'd see overweight housewives wearing at the supermarket, Pall Mall hanging out of their mouth, hair in sponge rollers, yelling at a couple of dirty, barefoot kids. House coat he thought they called it. She had brownish-gray hair, dirty now, but he could tell that she had taken pride in her hair. It was the kind of hairstyle that older women go the beauty shop each week to "have done." Her dress was below her knees and she was wearing hose, earrings, matching bracelet, and one shoe, a square-toed camel-colored slip-on that no doubt had matched a handbag at one time. All together would she had been wearing an _outfit_.

He wondered where they were, what they had been doing when they were bitten. Were they getting ready for church? An outing? They obviously had plans to be somewhere. Plans that went horribly wrong. The man seemed dressed and ready to go, but she was still in her house coat. Hair done, shoes and jewelry on. He imagined the old man grousing because she was taking so long to get dressed, in a fit of coughing as the woman sprayed on one more cloud of Aqua-Net.

Daryl wiped sweat from his brow with his forearm. Bloody and rotting as they were, growling and snarling once they caught a whiff of his scent, they were a couple. Walking along close to each other, stumbling and bumping into each other. But still together. Even after they died.

He looked at them and was overwhelmed with a feeling of sadness. He'd been alone his whole life. Sure, he had a Daddy for part of his years growing up, abusive, alcoholic bastard that he was, and Merle for an older brother, but Daryl was still very much alone. Independent. Responsible for only himself. Paying his own way. Even when Merle was around, he wasn't there, he was more of a hindrance, always landing in jail, getting into trouble, causing problems. Now, he watched the couple together still, through a horrible death. It made him feel a bit better knowing that they would still be together. Even after he sent a bolt through each of their skulls, they still fell, next to each other, the old woman's loose arm splayed across the man's torso.

He recovered is bolts carefully, respectfully. Seeing these two made him think. He was in new territory now, this thing with Camille. He'd never had any kind of relationship with a girl before. He was unsure of his footing with her, every move he made seemed to cause a chain reaction ending where he least expected, where he didn't plan to go. Watching her in the woods that first night made him feel, well, good as it was, he still felt a little guilty for grabbing her, even though it wasn't quite against her will. Taking her into town caused her to get bitten. Being afraid to tell her how he felt about her caused them to fight now. He slung the crossbow on his back and headed towards camp, walking quickly, the three rabbit carcasses swinging from his hip. He was going to straighten some things out. Nature be damned. He wasn't going to end up a solitary walker.


	9. Chapter 9

_Thanks for the alerts and favorites, they really do make me feel like jumping for joy, but if you like it that much, please leave a comment, you know, so I can stop groveling!_

**Chapter 9**

Daryl strode quickly into camp, sweat circles under the missing arms of his faded button-down shirt, his crossbow slapping against his back. He walked past the tents at the edge and straight up to T-Dog, who was stacking split firewood. He handed the line of rabbits to him and turned around towards the tents.

"What am I supposed to do with these?" Dog called after him.

"Clean 'em 'n cook 'em, Dumbass." Daryl snapped, looking over his shoulder. He unzipped the tent quietly walked in. Camille was laying on the mattress on her stomach, head turned away from him. He could hear her lightly snoring, which made him smile to himself. That had been her original excuse for them not spending the entire night together. He moved to the bed and laid down next to her. She stirred as he ran his hand lightly down her back. She was warm, but not hot, which mean no fever. "Cam." he whispered.

She rolled over and opened her eyes. They were face to face now, her brown hair spilling on the pillow. She was still pale, with dark circles under her eyes. She frowned and tried to focus on him.

"What are you doing in here?" she said quietly, wiping crust out of the corner of her eye as she sat up.

"Need ta' talk."

"No, Daryl, really. We don't. It's ok-"

"Shut up 'n listen." he widened his dark eyes. "I got some stuff ta' say ta' ya' n' yer' gonna' be quiet until I'm done."

She closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. "Daryl, I-"

"God DAMN it, Cam," he interrupted her again, "Shut tha' fuck up fer' once." He looked at her as he said it and saw her wince slightly, the corner of her mouth twitching. She looked down. "Lemme' say what I gotta' say." he said softly.

Camille nodded her head and looked down.

"Ya' know I ain't good wi' words. 'R feelings, neither. If I was, we wouldn't be fightin'." He paused and pressed his lips together, exhaling deeply. "I didn't want ya' ta' die thinkin' I just said it 'cause you were dyin'. I couldn't stand it if ya' left me thinkin' I was a liar. Ya' know I care 'bout ya'. A lot."

"Daryl, please. You don't have to say it. I don't want you to say it just because I forced you into it. " she said.

"'As if ya' could." he smiled.

"Would you feel this need to say it now if I hadn't started all this yesterday?"

"Uhm..."

"Thought so." she said, setting her jaw, her eyes starting to tear up now. "Jesus." she whispered.

"Yeah. I would." Daryl scrunched up his face into a slight scowl. "I saw somethin' today. Somethin' that made me think."

"Something that made you think about us?" Camille said, putting her hand on his chest. His shirt was still damp with sweat and he smelled like the woods. She took a deep breath and inhaled slowly. Her second-favorite scent.

"Yeah."

"What did you see?"

"Two walkers."

"Two walkers made you think about us?"

"Yeah."

"Now you really don't have to say it." she frowned.

"Yes, I do. Cam, they were together. A' old man n' a old lady. Together. Walkers."

"How do you know they were together?"

"You just had to see 'em. I knew when I saw 'em they'd been together fer' a long time. I got ta' thinkin' that I didn't wanna' be alone anymore. I want us ta' be together."

"What?"

"I...love you 'n...I want us...ta' be...together." He leaned his forehead into hers. "So, cuss at me all ya' want. Scream 'n yell. Call me every name in tha' book, but I ain't takin' no fer' a answer 'n I ain't goin' nowhere."

"Daryl." she said softly, tears welling in her eyes. "I love you too." she rolled her head slightly across his. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." she was starting to sob by now.

He put his arms around her and held her to him tightly, stroking her hair and whispering to her as they laid there. He ran his hands down her arms and she shuddered slightly.

"Promise me you'll keep gettin' better." he whispered. "Promise me."

"Yes." she sighed, her breath thready, stuttering as she exhaled. "I promise. Baby?"

"What?"

"You fuckin' stink."

"Kiss m' ass, H.O."

XXXXX

Camille woke up screaming. Terrified, sweating, kicking at the imagined terror, making Daryl jump up and grab for his crossbow before he realized that she was still half-asleep, sitting up and shaking with fear. He moved to her and put his arms around her, trying to calm her.

"Shhh...It's ok. Shhh..." he repeated. "It's over. It was all a dream."

"Jesus, Daryl. Oh, God." Camille clung to his arm with both hands. "Oh, God."

"What? What was tha' dream?"

"You got sick. You got sick because I bit you and you turned and...oh God, Daryl." she was still shaking. "You got sick because of me. You got sick _from _me."

"It was just a dream. That didn't happen."

"I know. But what if..."

"It was a dream. That's all."

"No, Daryl. Think about it. I got bit, I have the virus. I have it inside me. What if I can..."

"No. You can't. Don't."

"I could. I have it. You know it. What if I can pass it on? What' if I'm like, a carrier or something?"

"Don't even say somethin' like that. Don't even think that." Daryl frowned.

"We have to think about it. What if-"

Daryl cut her of mid-sentence. "No. Stop it. You're just scared still 'bout tha' dream. Just go back ta' sleep." He held her face between his hands. "Ain't no such thing gonna' happen."

"Daryl." Camille protested.

"Cam. Go back to sleep." He pulled her down and curled his arms around her, holding her tight. "Please, baby, just sleep."

XXXXX

Dale came into the tent, a little surprised to learn that Camille wanted to talk to him in private. Carol had told him that Cam was asking for him to come and see her after Daryl had left to go hunting for the day. He patted the tent flap and said "Camille, it's Dale. Can I come in?"

"Sure, Dale. Please come in." she said. Dale had not really developed any overly-warm feelings towards Camille when she arrived. She always seemed very defensive, almost bordering hostile, and when he realized that she'd started in with Daryl, well, he opted to leave her alone and not try to get to know her as well as the others. "Never try to hug a porcupine, no matter how cute they are." his wife used to say.

"You're looking very well, Camille. What can I do for you?" he asked, sitting down near the mattress.

"Dale, I need some help. I need some advice. You're the smartest guy I know and I don't know what to do." Daryl was struck by how vulnerable Camille looked at that moment. She was thinner, pale, her hair was flat brown, hanging limply. Her wide eyes were ringed with dark circles underneath and they had lost their bright spark. She looked utterly afraid, he thought to himself.

"Well, I'm flattered, but I'm not sure I'm worthy of all the praise." he laughed. "What do you need help with."

"This virus, the virus that caused the outbreak and all of this," she made a sweeping gesture with her hand, "it's definitely a virus, right?"

"As far as I've heard."

"Like HIV?"

"Yes, HIV is a virus also."

"It's transferred from saliva and blood, right?"

"HIV? Not saliva but blood, definitely."

"No, the walker virus. You get bitten by somebody that's infected and that's how you get it yourself, right? That's how I got it?"

"Well, normally, yes, if walker bites you or an infected person bites you, there's a high likelihood that you will contract the disease, correct."

"What about me?"

"Camille, I'm not sure I'm following you."

"Can I infect somebody with saliva or by biting them?"

"Well, I...Camille, I don't know. We don't know if you really had the virus or how much of the infection you did have, we..." He stopped talking mid-sentence. "Camille, are you asking me what I think you're asking me?"

"Am I going to give this virus to everybody? If I sneeze, if somebody drinks or eats after me? If I...""Are you worried about Daryl contracting the disease?"

Camille nodded, closing her eyes and putting her head down on her knees. "I'm worried about all of you."

"Oh, Honey," he said, moving to her, rubbing her arm gently. "I'm not a doctor. I've never had any medical training, I just don't know-"

"But, you know stuff, Dale, you know a lot of stuff. "

"I don't know this." he said quietly. "Camille, you didn't die and you didn't turn. We can't say one-hundred per-cent that you even had the virus. You had something, but we don't know."

"Dale, I got bit by a walker, you saw my ankle . You saw how sick I was."

"I also saw you get better. No one's ever gotten better that any of us have ever heard of. So we can't say for sure that's what you had. Maybe it was something different, something from, well, not to be disgusting, but something that you were infected with when you came in contact with rotting tissue. "

"I'm scared Dale. I'm scared I'm going to accidentally infect one of you and you're going to die and it'll be my fault."

"Ok, I understand how you're scared. Let's for the time being, until we can figure out something, keep just the contact with body fluids to a minimum." Dale stopped and rubbed his hand along the side of his beard. "I'll talk to Andrea and make sure that we keep your eating utensils separate, you wash your hands before and after _everything_. Universal precautions, I think is the term. Until we can find out more, until we know more."

Camille was silent for a couple minutes. She looked at Dale, her eyes wide. "What about Daryl?" she asked. Dale looked at her and then shook his head, as he realized what she was asking.

"Oh, Honey, I...I think you'd better talk to him about that." he said, a bit flustered.

"I know what he's going to say." she shook her head.

"I'm sure you do. But you have to talk to him about your fears." he said quietly. "You have to discuss this with him, it affects you both."

"God, this is awful. It's going to get really bad. I just know it."

"Do you love him?" the grey-headed man asked.

"Yes. That's why this is going to be so hard."

"I have no doubts. I wouldn't want to be in this predicament. Such strong feelings for someone and you're concerned that expressing them may put him at risk."

"Exactly. Dale, I can't risk it."

"Then talk to him about it. You're the only one who can."

Camille rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. "I know. I know. " she nodded her head. "Dale, thanks."

"You're welcome, although I don't know how much I helped."

"You did. Really. Thanks." she said. "I just needed somebody else to tell me what I already knew."

XXXXX

"Don't like it when ya' say that." he said, his blue eyes darting between hers, searching for a clue of what was so damn important that she drug him back to his tent right after dinner.

"I'm sorry. We need to talk about this. I fuckin' need to talk and you need to listen."

"Now I really don't like this." he said, laying down on the bed, stretching his legs, his feet bare. Daryl had taken off his button-down shirt and was wearing the sleeveless undershirt he normally wore underneath. His muscles rippled as he put his hands under his head.

"Daryl, I don't even know how to say this. I'm...I'm really scared about something and I..." Camille signed heavily and sat down next to him, her back away from him. "Daryl, do you think I had the virus?"

"'Suppose so." he shrugged. "Sure got sick after ya' got bit. Not sure if ya' had a bad case."

"Have you heard of anybody surviving?"

"Not 'till you."

"Do you remember AIDS and HIV? They were cause by a virus."

"Yeah, but weren't as bad as this one. What's that got ta' do wi' you?" he said. Daryl didn't like where this was headed.

"Yeah. But you remember how it was spread?"

"Gays." he said flatly.

"Don't be ignorant. Contact with bodily fluids."

"Yeah, I know. Unprotected sex."

"Yeah. But this is different. Bites. Saliva. Spit, Daryl. Spit will kill somebody nowadays."

"So?" he frowned and scratched his head. "What 're ya' gettin' at here, Varner?"

"What if I have the virus still and my spit will kill?"

"Then yer' gonna have to give yerself' a bath 'r I'll be dead in a week." he teased and pushed her gently with his hand on her back. "I can't take much more a' this as it is."

"Fuck, Daryl, this is no joke. What if I can transmit the virus to you, to others?"

"Who else ya' plannin' on swappin' spit with?" he joked, causing her to stand up quickly, clenching her fists tightly.

"God DAMN IT, Daryl, this is no joke! We have sex and it could kill you. I may have already infected you any time you've kissed me since I got bit."

"Sit down, Woman." he said, pulling on her arm. "Getta' grip."

"I can't be responsible for you getting sick or worse." she said calmly. "I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you. Do you not get it, Dixon? I can't touch you."

"What tha' fuck? You ain't gonna kill me. I ain't gonna' get sick."

"You don't know that. Nobody knows that. You're too important to the group to fuckin' risk it, Daryl." Camille said. "We can't be together."

"BULLSHIT!" Daryl roared. "Who told ya' that? Who filled ya' with all these crazy ideas?"

"Nobody did. Daryl, this is what I dreamed last night. You got sick and died and then you turned into a walker because of ME."

"It was a fuckin' dream, Cam, a stupid fuckin' dream. You sayin' we're done because of a damn' dream?"

"No. I'm saying I love you too much to risk your life by being selfish."

"What?" Daryl was up on his knees, his hands on her shoulders now. "Listen ta' what yer' sayin'."

"I'm sayin' that you can't kiss me, we can't fool around, we can't...exchange fluids...because there's too much risk of me infecting you."

"Yer' saying stupid shit, is what yer' sayin." he shook her shoulders. "How can ya' even think this? You wanna' break up with me, do it, just don't pull this crazy-ass bullshit."

"I don't want to." Cam said, looking into his steely blue eyes. "That's the last thing I wanna do, Daryl, but fuck, if it means keeping you safe, then I have to. You're the most important thing in my life and I can't do something stupid and put you at risk."

"Ya' keep talking' 'bout risk. Where's tha' risk?"

"Inside me, Daryl." Camille sat down and put her head in her hands. "It's inside me, don't you get it?"

"Jesus. I can't even believe what I'm hearin'." he said. Daryl stood up and walked out of the tent without saying any more. Camille sat on the mattress for a while until she was no longer shaking and could return to her own tent. When Carol rose and started to go to her, Dale waived her off and shook his head slowly. They saw neither Daryl nor Camille the remained of the evening.


	10. Chapter 10

_Thanks for the reviews and alerts. Love you guys!_

**Chapter 10**

Daryl slammed his fist own on the ground. "Fuck, Camille, this 's _not _happening!" He was angry, violently angry. "Ya' can't do this. Ya' can't say this, ya' don't even know for sure."

"That the whole point. We _don't _know. I'm not willing to risk your life."

"Ain't your decision to make."

"Hell if it ain't. What - you think you can force me to sleep with you? Is that it?"

"No, that ain't what I'm sayin'. We ain't gonna' stop bein' together because of a dream. You're scared n' overreacting. If yer' gonna' make anybody sick, it woulda' happened by now."

"Not necessarily. We haven't had sex since I was bitten, right?"

"No." he said quietly.

"Have you really kissed me since then?" she asked.

"'Course."

"No, I mean, kissed-kissed."

Daryl looked at the ground. "Guess not. Been tryin' to be...a gentleman. I know ya' din't feel like doin' nuthin'."

"So you can't really say you've been exposed, can you?"

'Christ. I spent almost every minute with ya' since ya' got bit. When ya' were real sick. After ya' started gettin' better. I changed yer' bandages. I gave ya' baths. I breathed the same air as ya. I'm not sick."

"Yet." she said quietly, blinking.

"Ever." he said. "Yer' bein' paranoid. Nobody caught nuthin' from ya'. Nobody's gonna, neither."

"And I have to make sure of that, damn it." she said firmly.

"How? How ya' gonna do that?"

"I don't know. Isolate myself. Be real careful. Separate everything from you guys."

"And me?"

Camille shook her head. "Daryl. It's gotta be this way. We can't."

"Ever again? Fuck that! I ain't doin' it." he spat.

"That's exactly the plan, Daryl. We ain't doin' it."

XXXXX

Camille sat in front of Daryl, on a blanket on the ground, at the fire after dinner. He had his hand on her back, tracing slow scrolls and curls with this fingertips on her thin shirt, barely touching, whisper soft. Every once in a while, his hand disappeared under her hair. He ran his fingers along the back of her neck, making her shudder. She batted his hand away and quietly hissed "Stop it."

It had been over four weeks since their last argument about Camille's fears and it was getting more difficult to justify things with each passing day. He'd been patient, he thought. Extremely patient. Waiting. Letting her weaken. No one in camp had gotten sick. Camille continued to get better, stronger. She was pretty much back to normal, except for the one thing. That one little thing, Daryl thought.

He knew Camille had talked to Lori about things, even though they weren't especially close. She didn't feel comfortable telling Andrea or Carol anything. No way. Not with her shutting out Daryl this way. She was terrified that he'd turn to one of them for what he needed. She didn't want them to know anything more than absolutely necessary. She didn't like viewing them as potential replacements for her, but that was her reality. That was what she'd set in motion because of one careless moment weeks ago when she should have been looking down, paying attention.

It wasn't hard, though, for the others to figure it out. Camille was more snappy and ill-tempered than usual. Daryl was mean, snarling, like a caged animal. He paced in camp, spent more time hunting than normal and when he wasn't avoiding Camille totally, he was trying to put his hands on her. Now was one of those times and Camille didn't know how much longer she could hold out. She kept telling herself that it was dangerous. Too risky. There were too many unknowns, but damn, when he touched her, his hands burned like fire on her skin. When he pressed against her, she could feel how much he wanted her. They had stopped sleeping in the same tent because it was too hard on both of them, but it didn't stop Daryl from trying to get her to fold...and she was afraid she was about to fold like a house of cards.

"What's it gonna' take?" he whispered, pulling her behind a tent as she made her way back from the tree line where she'd gone to pee. He put his arms around her and pulled her close, pressing against her. "What do I gotta' do?"

"Stop it, Daryl. You know this ain't all about you. Fucking hell, I don't like it any more than you do, but it's gotta be this way. I'm not going to do anything to risk your life."

"Either way, I'm a dead man." he frowned. "You're killing me 'cause I can't have ya. I'm gonna die whether I fuck ya' 'r not, so why don't ya' just let me. I know ya' wanna. I can' see it in yer' eyes." Daryl pulled up one of her legs and wrapped it around his hip, almost pulling her off the ground.

"Fuck." Camille murmured. "Daryl, don't. Don't do this to me."

"Woman, this ain't nothin' compared ta' what I wanna do ta' ya'" he put a hand to the back of her head and pulled her hair down roughly, bending her back against him and exposing her neck.

"Daryl, stop it!" she protested, putting her hands to his chest, but he ignored her completely. He laid a series of small, nipping kisses on her neck, a line from her earlobe down to her shoulder, his scraggly chin whiskers tickling her smooth skin. Camille whined and moved against him, unconsciously shifting her weight, pressing them together closer. "No" she whispered. "Please stop." She pushed on his chest firmly and tried to take a step back, shaking her head. "God DAMN it, Dixon. No!" she said firmly, regaining her senses.

"Fine!" he yelled, "Fucking have it your way." he said, half dropping her and stomping off to his tent.

Camille stood there breathing heavily for a couple minutes. "Mother fucker!" she panted. "Jesus Christ, I can't do this." she sat down on the ground had put her head in her hands, rocking back and forth slightly in the damp grass. "I'm not strong enough to do this." she whispered to herself in the dark.

XXXXX

Daryl walked up to Dale, rabbit in hand. the animal was kicking and wiggling, struggling to break free, but Daryl had a snare around it's back legs and it was caught tight. "Dale, ya' got a needle?"

"Daryl, what is that? A rabbit? A live rabbit? Why do you need a needle?" the aging man squinted against the sunlight, looking at Daryl quizzically.

"Gonna' give him a shot."

"What are you talking about? A shot? Do you mean a syringe? Like...an injection?"

"Yeah. A shot. That's what I said." Daryl said, not understanding why Dale wasn't following him.

"Daryl, what are you up to?" he asked again.

"Dale, we gotta' give this damn rabbit a shot."

"Of what, Daryl?" Dale was completely confounded by now.

"Blood. Cam's blood. We gotta' make her understand she ain't no Typhoid Mary."

"OH. Ok, I see." Dale said, scratching his beard. "You think by showing her the rabbit won't get sick, she'll stop believing she's contagious. Interesting plan."

"Fucking better work, 's all I gotta' say. Better damn sure work." Daryl spat.

"Have you asked Camille?" Dale said.

"Asked Camille WHAT?" The two men froze briefly and then turned around to find her standing behind them, hands on her hips.

"Oh shit." Daryl frowned and said under his breath.

"Nice bunny. He ain't dead." she pointed to the rabbit swinging from the cord in Daryl's hand. "Do I even freaking want to ASK what you two are up to with a live rabbit and those matching 'oh fuck me' looks on your faces?" she said, glowering at the pair.

"Well, Camille, Daryl here has an interesting idea he'd like to propose." Dale said, trying to keep her calm. "He was running it by me to see if we had everything in camp he might need before he approached you."

"I'll bet." she said. Daryl and Dale looked at each other and then Daryl nodded.

"Uhm, yeah. Yeah, I was checking with Dale." Camille could see both men were nervous, like they had been caught smoking behind the barn.

"So, out with it." she said, running her hands through her hair and scratching the back of her head. "What's this big idea the Redneck Wonder's cooked up?"

"We give tha' rabbit some a' yer' blood." Daryl said flatly.

"What?" she said, not believing her ears.

"We give the rabbit some of your blood. He don't get sick, we know you're not gonna pass the virus to anybody." he said.

"Daryl, you really wanna get laid so bad you're willing to kill an innocent bunny?"

"Yes. No. I mean, no. I wanna' prove ta' ya' yer not contagious. Bunny's gonna die anyway, if we don't do this, we'll just be eatin' him for dinner." he shrugged.

"I hardly think bunnies are the same as humans." she shook her head. "Never saw a walker bunny. Guess they'd technically be hoppers, come to think of it."

"They test stuff on rabbits." Daryl ignored her joke and prepared himself for the argument. He'd planned for it, actually. "Makeup and medicines and stuff."

"Actually, Camille, it's not so far-fetched." Dale said matter-of-factly.

"You both have lost your damn minds. I am not going to subject some poor rabbit to your ghoulish experiment just so Daryl can get me to cave and sleep with him again. Dale, I'm surprised at you."

"Cam, think about it." Daryl began again. "We draw blood from you. Dale's got clean needles-"

"Syringes." Dale reminded him.

"Yeah, right. Syringes. We got clean ones in the first aid kit. We draw it from ya' and put it in the bunny. If it don't get sick, we know yer fine. If it does, well, then ya' were right." He looked at her, his eyes wide. "Please. Let's just try." he said quietly.

"Oh, Jesus. You _are _serious, aren't you? You've really been thinking about this, haven't you?" she turned to Daryl.

"Yup." he said, scratching his ear.

"Camille," Dale said quietly, "It might just work."

"Et tu, Brute?" she said, one eyebrow raised as she looked at the older man. Dale smiled broadly, relishing the reference. "Oh, fuck me. Who's gonna draw the blood?" she sighed.

"I think Lori would do a good job. She worked in a hospital, I think." Dale said.

"No. Camille shook her head. "Shane."

"No fuckin' way." Daryl said loudly.

"I know he's had some medical training. He's got more experience than Lori when it comes to needles." Camille said.

"Don't like it." Daryl said, his lips pursed.

"Screw it. Plan's off then." Camille shrugged.

"Fuck. God damn it, Woman." he sighed. "Ok. Shane. We ask Shane."

"Alright then." Camille said. "Christ, where's Eric Northman when you need him?"

"Huh?" Daryl looked at her and squinted. "Who?"

Camille rolled her eyes. "Never mind. Let's get this horseshit over with. Daryl, go get Shane. Dale, you got get the medical kit." Daryl turned, smiling slightly, and started towards Shane's tent. "Daryl." Camille said. "Give me the damn bunny." she said, walking towards him. "Jesus, you really are a fucking nutcase." she said, taking the rabbit gently and cradling him to her chest.

Daryl leaned in and kissed her cheek. "'Member what they say about bunnies?" he whispered as he groped her ass and turned away again. "Bunnies got nuthin' on Dixons." he called.


	11. Chapter 11

_It's been a while, so let's go over the basics. I don't own or claim any rights to Daryl or Dale or Rick or, *spits on the ground* Shane, or any of the WD characters. You know that. Just FANtasizing..._

_Please read and review. _

**Chapter 11**

"No."

"You have to."

"I ain't gonna' do it. No way in hell. She shouldn't even be here, Rick. You know what I think about the whole Camille situation. Now you want me to stick her with a needle? What if I get stuck in the process?" He adjusted the ball cap several times over his bristly head, looking down, shaking his head the whole time he spoke.

"We have gloves. You'll be careful. Shane, you have to do this. It could mean so many answers for all of us. You could help her put all of this behind. Just, draw a syringe of her blood, please." Rick pleaded. "You're the one person in the group who has any training for this."

"And what if the rabbit dies, Rick?"

"Then we go from there. Shane, we're not going to know unless you do this."

"No. _She _goes from here. That's the only way. If that rabbit dies, she leaves."

"Shane, let's take it one step at a time."

"I'm tired of taking it one step at a time. We gotta be proactive. We gotta' protect what's _ours_."

"Camille IS ours, Shane. She's one of us."

"No she ain't. She ain't, Rick. Shit, she wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you being all soft-hearted. Now look where we're at. We got a carrier right in the middle of us all and we could all be infected"

"We ain't. We'd all be sick or worse by now. You know that. She's not infected any more either." Rick said, wringing his hat in his hands, curling and uncurling the edges. "Shane, please. Do this. I'm begging you."

"She leaves."

"Shane, I can't We can't do that."

"Fine. I ain't havin' nothin' to do with it."

Rick shook his head and turned, walking off. This was just about the last straw for him. He didn't want to think about it, though, not right now. They were going to have to come up with another plan.

XXXXX

Dale put on the purple nitrile gloves with a dramatic snap. He was nervous. He'd never drawn blood before. Sure, he'd seen it done a thousand times. TV, in real life, on himself, but he'd never actually _done _it before. Camille sat at the picnic table, her arm out flat, the leather cord around her upper arm. She was squeezing a small round rock in her hand. He could see a good vein in the crook of her arm. Her eyes were on his when he looked at her, taking the cap off the syringe. She nodded and bit her lip. Daryl was sitting next to her and had a firm grip on her shoulder while Rick was sitting on the other side of her, ready. The rabbit was in a box on the other side of the table. He could hear it scratching and bumping around.

He pinched her flesh around the vein and gingerly stuck the needle in between his fingers. The blood started to come immediately and Dale slowly pulled the plunger back as Camille made a small closed-mouth cry and turned her head towards Daryl. It didn't take long to fill the entire syringe with the thick red syrupy liquid. He pulled the needle out quickly and swabbed the area with a new alcohol pad and put a clean gauze pad, as Rick pressed his fingers down to try to stop the blood flow.

"Now, there. If I had a lollipop, I'd give you one. You've been a fine patient."

"No, no lollipops." Daryl said, nudging her in the arm. Camille started to giggle and blush.

"Holy shit, Dale, that stings." she said. "I can take it from here, Rick, thanks."

She slid her fingers over on top of the cotton gauze and pressed down as Rick took his fingers away. Camille raised her forearm up, elevating her hand. She watched Dale as he and Rick calmly opened the box and Rick reached in and grabbed the rabbit, holding it down. She could see Dale pinch the skin on the back of the rabbit's neck and sink the needle in, pushing the plunger down. The rabbit didn't protest much, in fact it was pretty docile for everything that was happening. Poor thing, Camille thought. Has no clue what we're doing to it.

The two men put the rabbit back into the box and closed it up, putting a piece of wood on top to secure the flaps. "OK." Dale said. I'm going to put bunny here in my r.v. to keep him safe. We'll just have to wait and see what happens.

"Well, keep the kids away from him in case he tries to bite one of them. Rabbits are notorious biters." Camille said.

"I will." Dale nodded. "Camille...everything will be ok. I just know it. Everything's going to be fine."

"Hope yer' right." Daryl said quietly, his hand moving behind Camille's back. Camille glanced up at Daryl and Dale noticed the look between the two. It was love. He was sure of it. He hadn't noticed it before, but yet, he hadn't really seen the way they looked at each other until now. He smiled to himself and picked up the cardboard box.

"He'll be safe with me. Don't you worry about a thing." he said as he started towards the r.v., carrying the box in front of him.

XXXXX

Rick looked at Shane and jabbed the tip of the pocket knife in the picnic table top again. He was talking about the experiment with the rabbit. Shane never asked what was happening, never once said anything about it. Rick was pissed as hell still about Shane refusing to help.

"You've changed." he said. "You're not the same guy you used to be."

"Who is? Who _could _be with all we been through? The whole world's changed, and we gotta change right along with it. Life's harder now, Rick. There aren't any sure things anymore. We have to protect ourselves and what belongs to us. If that means we have to make tough decisions, so be it. We gotta' be careful. Safe."

"I know that," Rick protested, folding the blade back into the knife. "Don't you think I know that? But you're...not the same. You're harder. Colder."

"The world's colder now." Shane said. "You better get yer' head out of yer ass and start dealing with reality, Rick. It's them against us." Shane shook his head. "Life or death."

"This situation wasn't like that." the thin brown-haired man said.

"Hell if it wasn't. Still is, 's far as I'm concerned." he said. "You ain't never gonna' convince me she's not contaminated."

"Contaminated? Jesus, Shane, listen to yourself."

"Just statin' a fact, Rick. Simple fact." Shane said, standing up. "You can't deal with that? You're not willing to deal with that? Well, then maybe you should let somebody else take over." He walked off to his tent, carrying his shotgun in his hand.

XXXXX

"Jesus, you're hot." Daryl said, rubbing his hand over the bare skin on her arm.

"You're just horny."

"No, I mean it. Hot-hot. Yer' skin. It's hot."

"Oh. Damn. I thought you were giving me a compliment. I don't feel hot."

Daryl put his hand to Camille's forehead to check for a temperature. He shook his head. "Nothin'." He was still concerned every time she coughed or sneezed, or complained of even the slightest headache. It still scared him to death that she could get sick again.

Camille looked at him and put her head down, covering her face with her hands, and started to cry softly.

"What'd I do NOW?" he said, bewildered.

"Nothing." she sobbed. "That was so fuckin' sweet."

"Huh?

"What you did." she said, wiping tears off her cheeks. "That with the back of your hand, checkin' to see if I had a damn temperature. That's one of the sweetest fucking things you've ever done."

"You on your period or somethin'?" he said, cocking his head sideways, getting ready for the arm slap that he knew was coming the minute he opened his mouth.

"Fuck you, Dixon." she sniffed. "I'm gonna let you have that one just because you're bein' so damn sweet."

"Aw, now who's bein' sweet." Daryl said, pulling her tighter. Camille was sitting on his lap, sideways, Daryl's arms wrapped around her.

"Don't call me sweet. I'm not sweet."

"I think ya' are. Least, what I 'member, yer' pretty sweet." he dropped his hand between her legs and rubbed slowly. "Mmm, yeah, real sweet."

"Stop it." she squeezed her legs, trapping his hand between her thighs, having just the opposite reaction she wanted. He twisted his wrist and kept rubbing. "Jesus Christ," she whispered, "stop it, you're killing me."

"Yup." Daryl pulled her brown hair aside and started to kiss her neck, working her collarbone and around to under her ear, his hand not stopping.

"Fuck, Daryl." she said, closing her eyes, her head rolling back. His lips were rough, his goatee scratchy along her neck and shoulders. Camille had always loved it when he paid attention to this part of her.

"Count me in." he whispered."

"No. No, we can't. We don't know yet." she protested, her head snapping forward, almost hitting him in the jaw.

"When. How long 'r we gonna' go 'fore it's ok?"

" I don't know. I was thinking maybe four weeks."

"A whole fucking month?"

"Daryl, if that rabbit lives a month, we'll know for sure.

"What if it dies because it's been in a fuckin' box for an entire month?"

"I know Dale. He ain't gonna keep that rabbit in that box a whole month. He'll build it a cage, then he'll let it loose in the bathroom, then if it's still alive, he'll have it running around that fuckin' r.v. of his 'n give it some cute name. It'll be a damn pet before you know it. If all goes well."

"It'll all go well. I know it." he said, shaking his head, resting his forehead against hers. "A month. Then you're mine."

"I thought we'd already established that a while back." she smiled. She looked away, getting lost a little, remembering the first time they were together. "Hmmmm." she purred.

"So, what, " Daryl said, scratching his head, "we set a date 'r somethin'? Tha' Official Daryl Dixon Finally Gets To Fuck Camille Varner Again Day?"

"Holy shit, I was wrong! I think THAT just may be the sweetest thing you've ever said to me." Camille laughed. "You are so fucking sensitive Dixon. Romantic even!" she teased.

"No, just hornier than fuck." he said. "Cam, I can't stand it much longer."

"I know, neither can I. But you know fucking why, Daryl. You _know _why we can't." Camille's eyes were wide, like she was trying to make her point with just them.

"I know I wouldn't care none either way." Daryl moaned. He removed his hand finally and rubbed his wrist. "I just want ya'. Right now."

"I know. I want you too. Soon, ok? Just pray that that rabbit don't die."

"Doesn't that mean yer' pregnant, when tha' rabbit dies?" he grinned, as Camille punched his arm.

XXXXX

"Tell me, tell me." she grinned, stroking the rabbit's ears as she cradled it in her arms.

"Nun-huh." Daryl shook his head. Camille had made it a habit of going to Dale's r.v. twice a day to check on the rabbit. It was healthy. Fat. Eyes clear, pink nose. No signs of anything amiss. Camille was hopeful, but still she was uneasy. She kept telling Daryl she couldn't get her hopes up because she didn't want to jinx it. Today was the first day Daryl had gone with her to check it out.

"Yes. Details. I want graphic details." she licked her lips.

"You can't handle it."

Camille sneezed loudly three times in a row. "Aww, fuck!" she said, sniffing.

"Cam?" Daryl said, a worried tone to his voice.

"No, I'm allergic to rabbit fur. Makes me sneeze and my fuckin' eyes swell up shut. Have been ever since I was a kid and got one for Easter."

"Put the fuckin' bunny down then."

"No, it's ok. Bunn and I are tight." She sniffed loudly again, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand.

"Yer' eyes 're waterin' like yer' choppin' a damn onion. Step away from that rabbit, Camille."

"I will if you tell me."

"Jesus, not here. Tent."

"Awesome." Camille put the bunny back in the cage on the floor of the kitchenette in Dale's R.V.

"Don't say that. Ya' sound like Glenn." he said, holding the door open for her.

"Do I look like Glenn?" Camille asked, hopping down the steps, putting her hands on the back of his waistband, tucking her fingers in his empty belt-loops and walking behind him.

"No." he grinned. "I ain't plannin' on fuckin' _his _brains out."

"I dunno, Dixon," she teased, skipping ahead of him and then walking backwards towards his tent, "he's gotta cute little ass on him. You might like it more 'n mine." She was pushing his buttons on purpose.

Daryl unzipped the tent and shoved her in. "Don't even joke about that." he snarled.

"Well, what then?" she said. "Tell me."

"We got six days. Then I'm gonna take ya' ta' tha' woods, pitch a tent, 'n we're gonna'..." his voice trailed off. Camille looked at him. He had his eyes closed tight and he was shaking his head back and forth slowly.

"What?" she said softly, putting her arms around his waist from behind. "What are we gonna' do in that tent in the woods?"

"Everythin'." he said softly. "I'm gonna do everythin' ta' ya'." He turned around and pulled her to him, lifting her up to him as she wrapped her legs around his waist. "First thing I'm gonna' do is kiss ya'. Long. Slow. I'm gonna' spend 'bout a day just kissin' ya'. All over. Mouth. Neck. Shoulders. Gonna' spend a lotta' time there. Crook a' yer' elbow. Shoulder blades. All tha' way down yer' back ta' yer' ass. Leave a trail wi' my tongue. Then I'm gonna work my way down tha' front. Spend another day just on those tits 'a yers'. Runnin' my tongue all 'round, playin' wi' yer' nipples 'till they ache. 'Till ya' ache all tha' way down there." He balanced her with one hand and slid his hand down the front of her shorts as she moaned.

"I do already." she hissed.

"Then," he teased, "I'm gonna take off yer' panties. Yer' gonna be wearing those plain white ones I like so much. I'm gonna' lay ya down 'n take care a' ya' 'till ya' scream...'n right before ya' get ready ta' come, I'm gonna' bend ya' over 'n..."

Camille put her hand to his mouth quickly, breathing heavily, and covered his lips with her fingers. "Shut the fuck up right now, Dixon. I mean it. Don't you say one more fucking word."

"One...more...fuckin'..." he grinned as he pulled his mouth away from her fingertips.

"You asshole."

"You wanted me ta' tell ya'." he shrugged. "Told ya' ya' can't handle it."

"Six days 'n I'll show you what I can handle." she said, sliding off of him slowly. She ran her hand up his thigh, ending at the huge bulge. She lightly traced the outline with her fingers. "Jesus. I've forgotten how much I love this big ol' thing." she said, looking down. She paused a minute. "Daryl?"

"Yeah?" he said, opening his eyes, his voice thick. He was having a hard time concentrating with her hand on his dick.

"It's really gonna' be ok, right?" she asked, raising her eyebrows and squinting. "Isn't it?"

"It's gonna be fine. Six days 'n it's gonna' be fan-fuckin'-tastic." he said, nodding.

_A/N: leave a review or the bunny gets it... (lol)_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Rick looked at the rabbit and then at Dale and then back to the rabbit. His heart sank. "Damn it." he said under his breath. He petted the rabbit in Dale's arms and then looked at the gray-haired man. "I think you're right. He don't look good."

Dale nodded. "I know. He's not been eating at all yesterday and today, he's lethargic. His eyes look a little glassy...and I think he's even losing a little bit of his hair. Poor thing, all he wants to do is curl back up in that box over there and sit. He's just not acting like himself."

"Damn it. It's been 26 days since we... Damn it. Do you think?" he looked at Rick, stroking the rabbit's ears slowly. "All this time and...now?"

"Don't want to think about it. It just can't be. Not now. It's been over three weeks. Why now?"

"Different biology, maybe? "

"I think we need to watch that rabbit carefully for the next day or so and not say anything until we know something for sure. No sense in everybody being upset until we actually, uh, have something to be upset about." Rick rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Damn it." he cursed again.

Dale knew exactly what Rick was talking about. If the rabbit wasn't going to make it, there was no sense in everybody sitting around waiting for it to die. They had done that with Camille when she was first bitten. It was horrible. Absolutely no reason for everyone to go through that again. If the rabbit was going to die, they were all facing much worse than that. Especially Daryl.

"Ok, Rick. I will keep a close eye on bunny and we'll just see what happens. I'll let you know if..." Dale stopped himself there.

Rick nodded and left the r.v., his head down, saddened. He didn't want to think about what may be happening. They had all been so hopeful. He really didn't want to think that Shane may have been right all along. He wiped his face with the palms of both hands and walked into his tent. He looked at Lori and moved to her, pulling her close. "I love you." he whispered. He held her tight for a good minute, not wanting to let go, trying not to think about the what-ifs to come. Rick knew one thing for certain. If it were Lori in this situation, he couldn't handle it.

XXXXX

Dale burst out of the RV and ran to Camille's tent. It was early. The sun was barely up and the morning dew was heavy still, anything that had been outside was watery, damp, glistening in the rays of the sun peeping through the trees.

"Camille. Camille get up. Get up now." he said, rapidly smacking the door of her tent with the palm of his hand.

Daryl unzipped the tent, rubbing sand out of the corner of his eyes. He stuck his head out and looked at Dale. "Wh' tha' fuck, old man?" He was shirtless and his hair was messy, obviously still half-asleep.

"Daryl, get Camille and get over to the R.V." Dale said, putting his hand on Daryl's shoulder. Daryl pulled back quickly, not accustomed to people touching him, not comfortable with it at all from anyone but Cam. "Right now."

Daryl's stomach lurched. He winced, knowing the inevitable. "Fuck me." he whispered. "The rabbit." He looked up at Dale, his face twisted in a grimace. He knew instantly what had Dale so upset.

"Yes." Dale said, already half way to Rick's tent. "Get over there...right NOW!" he called to Daryl, his head turned behind him.

Camille sat up. "What the fuck's going on? What time is it? Daryl, was that Dale?" she said, running her hands through her messy hair.

Daryl looked at her and she could see the terror in his eyes. "Yeah. He wants us to go to the mobile home." She was standing now, a faded Cheap Trick t-shirt to her knees, bare feet.

"Bunn's dead, isn't he?" she whispered, putting her hand to her mouth. "Oh, holy fuck."

"Din' say that." Daryl shook his head as he grabbed her shoulders. "Don't think it. Let's just get over there." he looked at her. "Cam. Breathe. Let's just go see what's up."

She nodded and pulled away from him. She pulled a pair of shorts from a tote near the bed. He could see she was shaking as she slipped into a pair of flip-flops. "Come on." she said, heading out the door.

Daryl threw on a clean wife-beater and moved quickly out of the tent, grabbing her hand as he started to jog, pulling her along in the slick dewy grass. He was still barefoot and every time he sat his foot down on the cold ground was a jolt, but not near as big of one as Dale's wake-up.

Daryl threw the door of the r.v. open and Cam hopped in, with him right behind, his hand on her back. Dale was sitting at the table with a bottle of Jack Daniels in front of him and several mismatched glasses.

"Really Dale?" Camille hissed. "Shouldn't I be the one needing the fucking Jack Daniels right now?" she said.

"Shh." Dale said calmly. "Keep your voice down. We're going to wait for Rick to get here."

"Why?" Daryl said. "Show us tha' damn rabbit." he snarled. The door swung open and Rick bounded up the two small steps inside."

"Dale. What's going on?" he said, breathlessly.

"I want you all to see this." Dale said seriously. "I don't know how else to tell you other than to show you." he said, standing up and moving Camille aside to get by her and move into the narrow hallway towards the small bathroom. "Follow me," he said dramatically, "and be very, very quiet."

Camille and Daryl exchanged uncertain glances and made their way down the short hallway, past the accordion door to where Dale was waiting. They crowded in and Dale was sitting on the toilet, leaning over the small stall that was the shower. There was a cardboard box on the floor of the shower. "Look." he said. "I don't know what to make of it."

Camille bent over, using Dale's shoulder for support, and looked in the box. It was Bunn. He was laying on his side, breathing hard, with these little purple things all around. Seven or eight of them. The purple things were squirming and wiggling, little tiny hairless things looking more like worms with tiny appendages than anything else.

Camille turned white. "What the fuck? Is that? No fucking way. Bunn. Dale? Are those what I think they are?" she said as Daryl bent over her to look, his hands on her hips.

"Holy fuck!" he said. "Jesus Christ, those 're fuckin' babies." he said, not believing his eyes. "Those 're fucking baby rabbits! Cam! Bunn had babies!"

Cam turned around and looked at Daryl and then at Dale, then to Rick, who was half in the door and half-out. The tiny room was too crowded for him to even try to take a look. She started to shake her head and a smile spread across her face. "Those are fucking babies. Dale, how could he have babies?" she was almost giggling by now.

"Well, first of all, he's a _she_." he laughed. "I been trying to do the math." Dale said. "Why don't we go have a drink and let Bunn have some privacy. She may not be done yet."

They all filed out slowly, with Camille reaching into the box and stroking Bunn's fur. "Thank you, Bunn, thank you. Thank you so much!" she whispered, choking back tears.

Dale poured the four a shot of whiskey each. "We've had the rabbit for 28 days exactly. I've been keeping track. From what I remember, a rabbit's gestation period is around 30 days. So, she had to have been pregnant when Daryl caught her. Not by much, but it doesn't take much for rabbits from what I hear."

Daryl kicked Cam's foot under the table. She shot him a sideways glance and winked. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "So, guys, what does this mean. Big-picture wise?" she asked quietly. They all knew exactly what she was asking.

"I think it means that you need to stop worrying, Little Lady." Dale said, patting her hand across the small table. "If that rabbit can carry a litter to full term with no complications, I think that means everything is fine. For both of you."

"I think Dale's right, Camille." Rick added. "If that rabbit was going to get sick, being pregnant would have only complicated things. That rabbit is fine. So are you."

"Do you guys really think so? What if..."

Daryl interrupted her. "Ain't nothin' happened ta' tha' damn rabbit. Ya' ain't contagious. He got a full syringe a' yer' blood, straight outta' ya', 'n he still had babies."

"She." Camille said, frowning.

"_She _still had babies. She's fine. They're fine. _Yer' _fine." Daryl was looking down at her, his blue eyes almost moist.

"Ok, well. Then, it's unanimous." she said quietly.

"I'll fuckin' drink ta' that." Daryl said, raising the glass of whiskey in front of him.

A chorus of "here-here's" came from Dale and Rick and Camille raised the glass to her lips and slung it back, wincing. "Damn Dixon. It's ain't even nine o'clock and you're trying to get me drunk already." she grinned.

Daryl looked at her and slowly wiped his lips with his hand, his eyes focused on hers, volumes passing between them, unspoken.

"Well, I suppose we ought to go tell everyone else the happy news." Dale said, nodding to Rick. He had seen the long look between the two. "You two have some plans to make, I'm sure."

"Yeah, plans. Right." Daryl said, not taking his eyes off of Camille. "Let's go work on them...plans." he said, his lip curling ever-so slightly. "We need ta' do some...plannin'."

XXXXX

Daryl followed Camille into her tent and sat down on the mattress.

"Don't be looking at me with those bedroom eyes, Daryl Dixon." she warned. We were not planning on this right now. I got things I gotta do. We still had three days to go by my count."

"We're done wi' countin' now, baby, it's all over. I gotcha' back." he said, rising to his knees and trying to grab for her as she moved about the small tent.

"Stop it. I need to take a bath and shave and change." she said, slapping his hands away.

"Ya' need ta' git over here. _Now_." Daryl growled. "I ain't waitin' no more."

"Oh yeah? Says who?" she teased, tossing a pair of clean underwear at him. He batted it aside and managed to grab one of her hands, jerking her to him roughly. "Hey!" she protested. He turned them quickly and laid them both down, Camille underneath.

"Says yer' man." he laughed, his hands moving her long shirt up and grabbing at her shorts at the same time. "Says me."

"You can't wait a little bit longer?" she squirmed as his hands moved to her thighs.

"No." he said firmly. Daryl unzipped his fly with one hand and removed himself. He was completely hard. Had been pretty much since they had finished that glass of whiskey. She was his again. Just like before this whole fucking nightmare. All his. To do with what he wanted...and he wanted to do _so _much, all at once. Starting right now.

"Oh, damn." she moaned as he rubbed himself on her thigh. "You really can't wait, can you?"

"Nuh-huh" he said, pulling her underwear down with one hand. "Get that damn shirt off. Now."

Camille pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it aside as Daryl worked her panties down her legs and flipped them over his shoulder. He raised up slightly and moved to his side, looking at her naked body next to his, her eyes ablaze. He ran his fingertips over her nipples and down her stomach and she moaned softly. "Jesus, Daryl."

Daryl told himself he was going to go easy. To make it last just as long as he could. That they had all the time in the world now. But he was a bad liar. The minute she ran her hand down his hip and brushed his ass, it was all over. He was all over.

Daryl rolled them over and straddled her, putting his hands under her shoulder blades. She moved her legs apart and brought them around his hips and he glided in with no resistance. She was ready. He sank into the warmth of her as far as he could and stopped. He had to stop - he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn't move. It was like time had ceased. He looked at her, her eyes closed, her lips parted, her face in an expression that he didn't have words to describe. A cross between pleasure and torture. He felt it too. Wanting something so much for so long and now, now that it's his, it was too much. The emotions were just too much.

"Cam." he whispered. Her head came forward and she opened her eyes slowly. He looked into the brown-gold eyes. She was far away when he'd said her name "I love you." he said slowly.

"I love you too." she whispered. She tightened her grip on his hips with her lower legs and pressed herself to him. "Let me go." she said.

"No. I'm goin' with ya'." he said, starting to move. Her eyes closed tightly again and she dropped her head back, her breathing matching his movements now. Faster with each thrust. Harder. Deeper. Camille arched her back into him and started to whine as Daryl pulled her to him. She stretched a leg and folded it slowly between them, resting it up his chest and on his shoulder. The change in the angle made her instantly start to moan as she furiously gripped the worn sleeping bag with her hands.

Daryl felt the first of her series of orgasms, rumbling deep from within her, building and then exploding around him and it carried him over the edge as well, rocketing himself inside her as he jerked violently, filling her. "Jeee-_sus_" he howled. "God fuckin' _damn _it." he said, his hands around the back of her shoulders, pounding with each spasm.

Camille was silent, her eyes closed. Even minutes later she was still experiencing smaller "aftershocks" as she called them. She slid her leg down slowly. Her hands still gripping Daryl's shoulders, red fingernail marks on his skin. He could still feel her clench around him as an aftershock would start to build and then release with a jolt that wracked her whole body, each slightly smaller than the previous. Her brow was furrowed and her jaw was clenched tightly shut.

"Cam?"

"Cam's not here." she moaned, as he laid them both back down on the pillows. She crossed her forearms over her eyes as Daryl snaked a finger down between them and began to rub little circles over her. She was swollen and still so sensitive that every touch seemed to make her twitch. "She's gone far, far away." she said dreamily, her eyes still closed.

"Well, tell her ta' git' her fine ass back here 'n get some clothes on. She needs ta' fuck her man 'in tha' woods."

Camille's eyes flew open and she was back. "Seriously. You still want to go out there?"

"Shit yes." Daryl said, pulling himself out slowly, still working her with his forefinger. "I done tol' ya' what I was gonna' do ta' ya."

"We don't have to leave here. Come on, Daryl. Let's just stay here."

"Nope. Screamin'." he smiled, adding his thumb to his busy finger. "Might disturb tha' neighbors."

She gasped and tried to grab for his hand. "Stop it!' she giggled. "That's not fair."

"Never said I play fair." he grinned. He lowered is head and flicked his tongue against a still-swollen nipple. "Didn't play fair from the get-go. Now, getta' move on."

"Make me." she smiled. Camille's smile quickly faded to an open-mouthed groan as Daryl's finger slipped inside her slowly. "Ok. Ok." she agreed. "You win."

"Always do." he smiled, withdrawing his finger and rolling her over, smacking her ass hard enough for it to be heard outside.

_A/N ...and no, we're not done yet! _;o)

_Merry Christmas to each of you. Thank you so much for the reviews and the alerts and the favorites...you have really made me feel blessed these past few months with all your support and encouragement._


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